


Smaragdus

by odeon



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caper Fic, F/F, Gems, Lesbian Sex, New York City, Smut, emeralds, otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-09-19 18:27:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 70,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9454955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odeon/pseuds/odeon
Summary: Working at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, Carol Aird is about to curate an exhibition of a lifetime. After having successfully negotiated a loan from the Louvre, she has managed to get the world famous necklace and ear rings of Empress Marie-Louise to soon visit the Big Apple.Though burdened by serious problems at home, Carol looks forward to a rewarding cooperation with a new, bright colleague, a young and ambitious gemologist, Therese Belivet, who knows her precious stones. What could possibly go wrong with a fine, upstanding professional such as Dr. Belivet? We'll see, won't we...





	1. The Gambit

**Author's Note:**

> Hello - and greetings from New York City and Broadway! 
> 
> I came up with a new story idea and thought I'd see where it takes me. Hope you like it. I've missed you guys more than you know. <3

_Smaragdus - Latin for the word "emerald"_

 

”I know you’re here.” The woman in the bed wasn’t sleeping, yet she made no attempt to get up or even reach for her cell phone on the nightstand. “I’ve been expecting you.” Her cover blown, the intruder stepped silently out of the darkness. “You’ve been here twice before so I figured there will be a third time as well,” the woman said.

“And how did I know that?” she asked the nightly visitor. “Because you got what you wanted the first time.” She kicked the duvet on the floor. “Now how about giving _me_ what _I want_.” Whatever the stranger had expected to happen, this certainly wasn’t it.

* * *

_11 months earlier_

“Darling,” Carol Aird pleaded, “eat something… just a little bit, please.” The man in the wheelchair wasn’t feeling cooperative. His mouth a defiant mute line, he dodged the spoonful she was desperately trying to feed him. Sighing, Carol put the plate away and sat next to her husband. “Oh Harge,” she said cupping his cheek pensively, “what on earth am I to do with you?” She could see the anguish in his eyes, the desolate look of a once virile man now trapped inside his shriveled body. “I know, my dear,” Carol whispered, “I know.”

Hargess Foster Aird had once been a dashing young man who had ‘had the world on a string’. Whistling the Sinatra oldie all too often, he had loved ‘that damn earworm’ as Carol had called it. Harge, the persistent suitor, had fallen in love with Carol, and she had grown fond of him. She had even accepted his proposal of marriage. It couldn’t be any worse than struggling on my own, she had reasoned.

And Carol had gotten something she had very much wished for: a cute baby girl they had named Rindy, and for a while everything had been almost rosy. But baby girls grow up and move out, and with her something essential left the family home for good – the affection she had showered her parents with to such an extent it had been enough to sustain their marriage as well. Rindy’s laughter no longer reverberating in the house, their quarrels had filled the sad void until even harsh words had become redundant.

Harge had had his first stroke five years ago while on a skiing trip in Europe. Whom he had travelled there with Carol didn’t know, but she was certain it hadn’t been just the snowy peaks and fast slopes he had looked forward to conquer. He had come back a shattered man, a shell of his former self. Soon after that Harge’s fortunes had dwindled, his unscrupulous business partners having pulled a fast one on him. Carol had resumed her work as one of the curators of the Metropolitan Museum of Art to make ends meet and to provide him with proper care. The latter had come in form of a very competent nurse, Miss Abigail Gerhard, who looked after Harge during the daytime. She also took care of Carol – at nighttime. A win-win situation, Carol had thought many times.

“And how are we doing this morning?” nurse Gerhard smiled at Harge, entering the breakfast room. “Morning, Carol,” she winked at her distressed employer. “I’m sorry I’m running a little late. Will you be joining us for supper?” She washed her hands before taking over the feeding. For some reason Harge didn’t seem to mind her finishing the chore he resisted Carol doing in the first place.

“Yes, of course,” Carol said. “I have an easy day ahead. Just one interview lined up – a young woman whom we hope will be able to help us with the upcoming exhibition.” She pulled out a stack of papers from her briefcase. “Theresa Bell… no, Belivet.” There was no photo of the applicant on the resume she had been handed just a couple of days prior.

“Belivet? Sounds Eastern European or something,” Miss Gerhard commented dabbing the corners of Harge’s mouth with a napkin. “I thought you’d have a French specialist for Napoleon’s diamonds.” She guided yet another generous heap of oatmeal between Harge’s lips.

“They’re not Napoleon’s diamonds, Abby,” Carol corrected. “The necklace and the earrings the Louvre is gracious enough to give us on loan belonged to Empress Marie-Louise, the former Archduchess of Austria.” She sounded irritated.

“But you said something about diamonds… and Napoleon,” Abby insisted.

“Well, yes!” Carol exclaimed impatiently. “There are over two hundred rose diamonds and nearly nine hundred brilliants in them, but it’s really about the gorgeous emeralds Napoleon I gave to Marie-Louise when they got married. Happy now?” Peeved, she shoved the papers back to her briefcase. Abby had gotten on her nerves lately more than she liked to admit.

“Someone got up on the wrong side of bed this morning…” Abby cooed to Harge. Had Carol not known better, she could have sworn he was smirking at her.

“I’m outta here,” Carol said grabbing her coat and heading towards the door. “Be good.”

* * *

The young woman sitting across the desk from her looked pleasant enough, Carol thought. She had a long black hair done up into a tight bun, and a pair of black rimmed glasses that lend her face a rather stern look. _Awfully thin_ , Carol mused, paying close attention to the woman’s flat chest and slim arms. For a second she was overcome by a strange desire to crack a stupid joke just to see if Theresa Belivet knew how to smile.

“It’s Therese,” the woman pointed out soon after they had commenced the interview. “A common mistake.”

Leaning back, Carol dropped the pen she had used for doodling on top of her pad. “ _Terez?_  Lovely.” She picked up her ballpoint as if the new information was something she just had to make a note of. 

>    **T H E R E S E**

“Well, _Therese_ Belivet,” Carol drawled, “your resume is very impressive not to mention the glowing letter of recommendation.” Her hands were fidgeting with a prestigious looking envelope. “I don’t know how we could afford _not_ to hire you for the job.”

Blushing, Therese Belivet seemed slightly uncomfortable. “Mrs. Cantrell is very kind…” she started hesitantly, “too kind, I’m sure.”

Carol threw her head back and laughed. “I’ve known Genevieve for years, and one thing I do know is that she is not _too kind_.” Growing serious again, she cleared her throat. “But now I digress… please bear in mind that it’s not _Mrs._ Cantrell, Miss Belivet – it’s _Lady_ Cantrell, and we should always remember that she is a most esteemed benefactor of the museum.” Even if she at times forgot her own place, she would make damn sure Therese Belivet would remember hers. “After all we have Lady Cantrell and her late husband, the revered Lord Cantrell, to thank for so much we have here today.”

For a fleeting moment Carol couldn’t decide if the look on Miss Belivet’s face reflected surprised embarrassment or quaint defiance. “My apologies, Mrs Aird,” she said. “I have a lot to learn.” She sounded sincere.

“Oh, hogwash,” Carol quipped unexpectedly. “Royalty – who needs them, right?” she chuckled, hoping to catch the smile she hoped was lurking somewhere just beneath the surface. It wasn’t. “We should get cracking first thing tomorrow morning, and talk about the centerpiece in more detail. I’m curious to pick your brain since you certainly know your stones,” Carol hastened to continue after a rather discomforting silence. “I’m heading downtown next. Can I give you a lift or something?”

Shaking her head, Therese Belivet declined her new boss’ kind offer. “Thank you, but you’d only be stuck in traffic on my account. Subway’s fine.” She started gathering her things.

Her evasiveness bothered Carol inexplicably. “Do you live alone, Miss Belivet?” she asked hoping to ripple her stubborn calm.

“Do call me Therese, and no, I live with my husband.” Unfazed, she got up on her feet to leave.

The news of Therese Belivet’s matrimony coaxed another surprise question out of Carol. “And what is your husband’s name, Therese?”

Perplexed, Therese glanced at Carol. “Daniel.”

* * *

Yawning, Therese turned the key in the lock of her apartment. Opening the door softly, she listened carefully. It was almost eerily quiet until a muffled thump sounded off from the bedroom. _Not again_. “Honey, I’m home,” she hollered in mock affection, all too certain of what would come next.

“Can you give us a minute, Terry,” a breathless voice called out not really caring if she did or not.

_Take your time_. Therese shuffled across the kitchen floor and turned the radio on top volume. At least it served to drown the noises she didn’t particularly enjoy eavesdropping to. She made herself a cup of tea and let out a deep sigh.

“Hey you.” A man in his late twenties emerged from the boudoir wearing a scruffy old bath robe. He was sporting his customary boyish grin, which Therese liked. All in all she liked Dannie McElroy very much, and as far as she knew, the feeling was mutual. “Did you get the job?” he asked, tightening the belt around his waist to Therese’s great relief.

“Of course,” Therese retorted. “She never had a chance.”

“Madame’s going to be so pleased, Therese…” Dannie chuckled, rubbing his palms together.

“Don’t call her that,” Therese interrupted, “it makes me feel like I’m working in a brothel.” She regretted her choice of word almost instantly.

“Well, it’s not me who’s sleeping with her,” Dannie laughed. He gave Therese a brotherly pat on the back. “Chin up, it’s not that bad. We all have to make sacrifices, don’t we?” Dannie’s ‘sacrifice’ was standing in the doorway in mere boxer shorts.

_Fucking Richard_. “Hello,” Therese managed to mumble without wincing. “Shouldn’t you be working?” Then again she did have herself to blame for coming home too early.

“Terry baby, good to see you, too,” Richard snickered. “I’ve been busy with this boy toy of yours.” He walked over to the fridge. “Anything to eat around here?” he asked checking out its contents. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be food,” he went on ogling Therese suggestively.

“Okay, Richard, put your pants on – now.” Dannie was quick to notice when Therese had just about had enough. “You need to leave because we have stuff to do. You know – grown-up stuff.” He picked up Richard’s socks from the floor and threw them at him. “I’ll call you tomorrow, lover boy.”

* * *

“Tell me again why he has to be here,” Therese questioned Dannie after Richard had finally managed to do as he had been told.

“She suggested it, don’t you remember?” Dannie said defensively. “It’s good to have someone inside, and he’s greedy and dense enough to play along once we get to the end game.” Therese couldn’t argue with Dannie’s rationale even though she wanted to. “And he ain’t too shabby in the sack either,” he laughed. “Now tell me about your new boss,” he asked changing the subject.

“Carol Aird?” Therese specified just to say her name out loud. “A bit pompous but obviously knows her shit.” She thought about Carol doodling on the notepad, and how she hadn’t even noticed the ink staining her fingers.

“That’s refreshing,” Dannie commented, “but I bet she’s matronly. The museum type we’re so familiar with.”

_Her skin is like hot milk, soft and translucent_ , occurred to her. “Yeah,” Therese acquiesced to reply, distracted by the sudden, passing image. 

* * *

When Carol got home, Harge was snoring peacefully in his bedroom. Hearing Abby in the kitchen, she sneaked in behind her and slid her hands under her blouse. “How long has he been sleeping?” Carol murmured in Abby’s ear. She had been thinking about sex the entire day, and seeing it now within such an easy reach, she couldn’t help but satisfy her craving.

“We have time…” Abby grunted, instantly turned on. She turned around to face Carol, to press her lips hungrily on her mouth. It was slightly too needy a kiss for Carol’s taste but this time she was willing to overlook its questionable quality. The kitchen table was thankfully vacant, sturdy and inviting enough for a quickie Carol had her mind set on. Abby’s hands opened her shirt and unclasped her bra, pulled down her unzipped skirt and dove between her thighs fast enough to make Carol moan from the sudden, wet contact. Carol helped herself up on the table and spread her legs for easier access.

“Fuck…” she groaned as Abby’s plowing palm turned into sweet, swift fingers drilling deeper with each thrust. Abby had learned how to touch her, how to fuck Carol the way she needed to be fucked. They had been down this road so many times before, and Carol knew she would get off just like she had always done.

Yet something bothered her, something she found irreconcilably lacking. It wasn’t the first time she recognized it, the performance nature of it all, the intimate act emptied of meaning. Or maybe it had never had it to begin with? Still she couldn’t possibly complain about it. How could she in the hands of such an expert lover? With someone who clearly wanted her and wasn’t afraid to let it show. But Carol was aware of more, and that more was creeping inside her brain slowly but surely, laughing at lukewarm passion and raising the bar for what was acceptable and what was not.

“Your mouth… now,” Carol demanded and pushed Abby’s head towards her crotch before she had time to kiss Carol again. Her back against the tabletop, she felt idle and heavy, impatient to have Abby’s strong tongue sharpen her slackened desire. Before it did, Carol knew what was to happen afterwards when the pleasure would get the better of her, how she would cry out a bit too vocally or knock down a chair as if by accident. Their moment interrupted because of her undoing it, she would get up, freshen up and go explain to Harge what the commotion had been about. She would be kind, and she would be fun, but one thing she would not be. She would not reciprocate what had happened. _Just not tonight_ , Carol told herself.


	2. Jardin

When Therese arrived at the museum early next morning, she saw Carol hunched over the documents describing the famous jewelry. When she noticed Therese, she put the folder away as if she had lost all interest in it for now.

“You wanted to go over the centerpiece?” Therese said, hoping to redirect Carol’s attention to the papers at hand.

“We’ll have plenty of time to do that,” Carol stated, “right now I’d like you to enlighten me about emeralds in general.” She had made up her mind, Therese understood, and there was nothing she could say to get Carol to focus on the necklace and the earrings again.

“What do you want to know?” Therese asked, hiding her disappointment in the sudden turn of events.

“Everything,” Carol smiled, “I know a bit about diamonds but emeralds not so much – other than they’re beautiful.” She looked at Therese’s eyes, which she only now realized were green as well. Therese had removed her glasses, which Carol took as proof of her myopia. “I’m curious to know what makes some of them more precious than others.”

“Grading emeralds is the same as grading all colored gemstones,” Therese explained as she pulled out some samples she had been clever enough to bring along. “You look for the color, the clarity, the cut and the carat weight, in this order.”

Carol picked up a green gem she found particularly interesting, and examined it through an eye loupe magnifier. “I love the pure green hue in this one,” she commented, handing the stone over to Therese.

“The hue is important,” Therese admitted. “Emeralds range from yellow-green to blue-green, the primary hue always being green.” She placed a few yellowy ones on her palm, letting the light play on their rough edges. “Gems that are noticeably lighter in tone aren’t even called emeralds,” she elaborated, “they’re known as green beryl.” When she raised her eyes to seek Carol’s, her irises were saturated with moist verdancy. Thin, tangled copper threads around her pupils looked like infinite starbursts to Carol. She wondered if the husband Therese had so casually mentioned the day before could set those curious filaments aglow.    

“It takes more than just a pure hue to make a fine emerald,” Therese continued, averting her eyes. “A top specimen must also be highly transparent. If a gem is dull, it’s not of good quality. It’s as simple as that.” She put the stones back in their box.    

Carol was reluctant to finish what she thought they had only just begun. “The first one you showed me,” she started, “despite its gorgeous color, it seemed to have imperfections on its surface.” The way she said it made it an eager question.  

Therese nodded. “Emeralds have flaws, that’s for sure – inclusions and fissures on the surface,” she elaborated. “These imperfections, as you called them, are described as _jardin_ , emerald’s ‘garden’. They do look a bit mossy, don’t they?” A faint amusement flickered on the curves of her mouth, which Carol was grateful to notice. It was the first time she had seen anything resembling a smile trying to make its way on Therese’s lips. “And each imperfection is unique for each emerald. Knowing this, we can identify individual stones and learn how they were formed to begin with.”

Carol was mesmerized by what she thought was the exciting world of the emerald only now opening up to her in its endless permutations. She gazed at the first specimen with renewed appreciation, the tiny fractures on its smooth cut, the gas bubble trapped inside, and even the scraggly clot of crystals attached to it. “They’re beautiful,” Carol said. “Without them it wouldn’t have any character.” She was inexplicably moved by what she saw and understood, although the realization felt somewhat disproportionate too. _It’s only a rock_.

“I’ve always found diamonds a bit boring,” Therese said, “since their grading is purely based on a strict loupe standard.” She pulled out another fine example and examined it under a desk lamp. “Emeralds, on the other hand, are judged by eye only. You base your appraisal on what you see _naturally_.” The thought consumed her, threw her off the track for a fleeting moment. “We look for perfection but do we find it? Rarely – as far as emeralds are concerned.” Therese paused for a moment. “Stones lacking any flaws are nearly impossible to come by, which is why almost all of them end up being treated to enhance their clarity.”  

It took a while for Carol to notice that Therese had stopped talking. She glanced at the diamond wedding ring on her own finger, and a sudden chill pervaded her body. Therese had a mere narrow gold band to mark her marital status, she noticed. It looked matte, worn-out.

Therese’s reticence bothered Carol. It made her want to shout out outrageous things just to test that stubborn façade of hers, to force out a reaction whatever it might be. Therese wasn’t unkind, Carol thought, but then again she didn’t exude warmth either. Therese Belivet was an enigma demanding a solution, occurred to Carol unexpectedly. _I have almost a year to get to the bottom of this, to the bottom of you_.

“How did you become so enamored with emeralds in the first place?” she asked Therese nonchalantly. After all, she didn’t want to appear too nosy.  

Therese looked at Carol with another half smile on her face. “Quite by accident,” she said. “I was given a chance to study gemology, and even though I wasn’t that into the field in the beginning, I soon found the world of precious stones very appealing.” She took her time before continuing. “Finding emeralds added yet another dimension to my infatuation…” Therese had a dreamy look in her eyes. “I sought to learn all there was to know about them, of their restorative qualities chronicled in countless legends and lores.” She seemed overcome by something she had just recalled. “Not only are emeralds believed to relieve you of stress and lassitude, they are also said to reveal truth and to protect its bearer against evil.”

Carol had been listening to Therese with growing interest. “And have they worked for you?” she asked softly.

Her question broke the spell Therese had fallen under. “If only our lives were so simple that all we had to do was to take comfort in some green rocks dug out of earth’s bosom.” Her words were accompanied with an easy laughter, but to Carol it all sounded unmistakably joyless and bitter.

* * *

“Do you have the specs for me?” Dannie asked Therese when she had returned home after work.

“Not yet. We didn’t get to talk about the centerpiece yet,” Therese replied apologetically.

“Therese! I need those asap,” Dannie grumbled. “The work has to be started immediately if we are to have it finished on time.” Running his hand through his curly hair, he looked desperate.

“I know, I know,” Therese sighed, “but I couldn’t make her give them to me when all she wanted to do was blab endlessly about emeralds in general.” She was frustrated but not so much with her boss than with Dannie who had the patience of a grasshopper.

“It’s your job to get the info,” Dannie nagged, “to provide me with the means to take this to the next level.” Agitated, he kept pacing the floor.

“It’s only my _first job_ in this, and you know it very well,” Therese said, raising her voice. “What is this all about? Why are you acting so jumpy all of a sudden?”

His back turned on her, Dannie stopped in his tracks. Something about him seemed frozen, almost frightened. “Madame came by.” It was all Therese needed to hear to understand her friend’s odd behavior.

“What did she have to say this time?” she asked, careful not to let Dannie see and hear what she really felt inside.

“Just that we better not muck this up.” Dannie collapsed in the chair. He looked exhausted as if he’d been holding his breath all day up till now. “Fuck.”

Therese went to him and wound her fingers in his wavy hair. “You can’t let her get to you like this,” she said gently. “Her bark is worse than her bite, you know that,” Therese consoled him, but as soon as she had said it, she knew it wasn’t true.

* * *

_Ten years earlier_

“Next! Therese Belivet, case number 645-A.” She was ushered in to sit next to her court-appointed attorney she had never seen before. “What do we have here…” Skimming through the case file, the elderly judge had a dour look on his face. “Robbery, man-slaughter – how old is she again?” he mumbled more to himself than to anyone else.

“Seventeen, Your Honor,” Therese’s attorney was quick to comply. The gangly man in a suit looked very young and inexperienced.

“And she has denied the allegations?” The judge asked, avoiding looking at Therese as he spoke.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the attorney confirmed. “Repeatedly.”

The man behind the bench rubbed his chin pensively. He looked tired but not entirely disinterested. “She was apprehended at the scene of the crime?” The wrinkles on his forehead deepened into flabby furrows.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Preoccupied, the judge seemed uncertain as what he was about to do was the right course of action for him to take. “The acts alleged in the petition are very serious, and personally I’d have rather seen this case tried in the criminal court,” he started gravely. “The evidence speaks for itself. However, since she is a first time offender and still a juvenile, there are grounds for leniency.”

Displeased, the judge leaned forward in his seat. As if only now noticing Therese, he narrowed his watery eyes and turned his attention to her. “You are a very lucky young lady,” the judge pointed out to Therese’s big surprise. “Nothing would please me more than to see you in a proper correction facility, but instead I have decided to grant the appeal of your generous sponsor.” He motioned to the bailiff who was waiting by the door. “Since she is willing to vouch for your good behavior during your probation, so be it.”

The door opened, and a brown-haired woman in her thirties entered the room. Impeccably coiffed and dressed in black pencil dress, she sauntered slowly past the court stenographer and headed straight towards the bench. The woman oozed wealth and confidence, both of which Therese knew nothing about. She had never seen the stranger before, nor had she any clue what was to happen next. A decision had been made without her having any say in it, Therese concluded, and somehow it had worked for her benefit. Even now she was being left out of the conversation dictating the next phase of her sorry life.

Only once did the woman turn around to glance at her, and when she did, she smiled. Therese didn’t feel like smiling back, quite the contrary, but no matter how sullen she looked, it made no difference. Therese was being released to her custody.

“Come on then,” the unknown woman said as they had left the courtroom. “You must be starving. I’m afraid the food at the detention center leaves a lot to be desired.” She waited Therese to catch her step, fully expecting her to do as she was told the first time. “There’s a diner across the street that serves amazing waffles and pancakes.” The woman looked like she had never touched a waffle in her life, Therese thought, paying attention to her perfect figure. But she was hungry, and certainly she wasn’t in any position to argue with her.

They sat down at a booth facing each other. The woman ordered her food without asking what Therese wanted: a tomato soup, a cheeseburger with fries, and a waffle with strawberries and whipped cream. “No soda, just an ice tea, unsweetened,” she instructed the waiter. When Therese’s food arrived, she lit a cigarette and leaned back in her seat. For a while she seemed content just to watch her do away with the plentiful meal.

“You can call me Karen,” she spoke breaking the silence between them. Therese froze for a second, then resumed eating. “You have absolutely nothing to be afraid of, Therese,” Karen continued. “This is what I do. I help people. People like you.”

Suspicious, Therese looked up from her plate. The woman had helped her but what did it actually _mean_? she asked herself.

Reading her thoughts, Karen smiled at her misgivings. “I’m no stranger to the juvenile court, ask anyone,” she laughed, “and I bet they will all tell you I’m mad.” It wasn’t what Therese had expected to hear. “But I believe in second chances, especially if there is a good reason to believe that justice has not been served in the first place.” Karen lit yet another cigarette.

“I didn’t do it.” Therese had been quiet for so long, all the time she had spent in detention and in and out of courtrooms, the words stumbled out of her mouth like toppling dominoes.

“I know you didn’t, Therese.” Karen watched her so closely, the fine hairs on the back of Therese’s neck stood on end. “You were there but you weren’t the one who did it.” The truth billowed in front of them like the whiffs of smoke drawn from her cigarette.

“I’m not a burglar or a killer,” Therese mumbled defensively. “But I’m not a snitch either, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

Exhaling softly, Karen shook her head. “No, darling,” she said reassuringly, “we will put it all behind us and never talk about it again, okay?” She patted Therese’s hand gently. “I have something for you.” She took a business card from her purse and placed it on the table for Therese to see.

  

> _Karen Wright_
> 
> _Rough Diamonds_
> 
> _A Youth Program_

 

And on the flip side:

 

> _“Become Brilliant!”_

 

Confused, Therese examined the card. “What is this? Are you trying to convert me or something?” The words ‘Youth Program’ were enough to give her the creeps.

“Goodness, no!” Karen laughed. “God, or any other deity for that matter, has nothing to do with me. I’m interested in this life, not in the alleged one after.” She flicked some ash into an ashtray. “I want to provide a clean slate for deserving youth, to offer education, maybe even a job later on while fostering personal growth. Sound any better?” Her brown eyes flickered mischievously in the dim lighting.

Religion out of the equation, Therese felt immediately better. “So you’re a do-gooder? What’s in it for you?” She didn’t mean to sound quite so aggressive but Karen didn’t seem to mind.

“I suppose I’m one of those bored rich ladies who got tired of doing nothing but gossipy lunches,” Karen said. “I wanted to be an instrument of change, so to speak, to help those less fortunate than me.” She paused while the waiter served Therese her waffles. “And it’s been very rewarding… all those girls and boys I’ve been able to nudge forward.” The smile on her face was almost rapturous. “You are just one in a long line of young women I’ve come in contact with, Therese,” she explained, “and now it’s your turn, should you wish to take full advantage of what I have for you to offer.”

The freshly cut strawberries and the thick strokes of whipped cream over a pile of waffles had never looked better to Therese. _She is an attractive woman dangling an opportunity of a lifetime in front of me,_ she thought. _And it’s not like I have a choice since I’m under her charge now._ No one had ever given her anything for free, and even if she neglected to understand the real meaning of not having a choice in the matter, she welcomed it. She wanted to welcome it, all of it. _I might as well make the most of it, whatever this is_.


	3. What It Feels Like

“What the hell am I going to do with all this?” Carol grumbled, going through her personal finances. The bills were piling up, and the money she was making wasn’t cutting it at all. Over the years the Airds had gotten so used to their opulent lifestyle, Carol still didn’t know how to adjust their spending to the diminished means at their disposal. She had done her best, and for a while she had thought she had had everything under control, but living in their big house and providing Harge the constant care he demanded was proving to be far too costly.

“Anything I can help you with?” Abby asked, bringing over a fresh pot of tea. Gently she laid her hand on Carol’s shoulder and leaned in to see what was troubling her.

“It’s money,” Carol sighed, “it’s always money – trying to get through yet another month without no real solution to the pending disaster.” She patted Abby’s soothing hand.

“There could be a way out of this, you know,” Abby said cautiously, “if you’re willing to give it a thought.” She hesitated to continue what she had started. “I mean you are paying me a huge amount of money each month.” She sat down next to Carol.

Carol wasn’t sure where Abby was getting at with her comment. “You are a professional, and I’ve hired you to do a job, so of course I pay you,” she stated matter-of-factly. “It’s not like I can skimp on Harge’s care, and besides he seems to like you.” She smiled at Abby, hoping she could in this way reassure her of her steady employment.

“Yes, but…” Abby began uncertainly. “It’s just that I wouldn’t need to be paid so much if…” She fell silent not knowing how to finish what she meant to convey.

“If what?” Carol asked, taken aback by Abby’s sudden confusion.

“If I would live here with you,” she blurted out finally. “I could give away my own apartment and stay here fulltime.” As soon as Abby had said it, she was impatient to know how Carol really felt about her proposition.

“Oh…” Carol said, flustered, “I see.” It certainly wasn’t the answer Abby had hoped for. “That’s a very kind offer, Abigail, too kind, really.” But no matter what she said could make the awkwardness disappear. Carol saw how Abby withdrew to herself, how hurt and, even worse, disappointed she looked. _I have to think of something to make it better, to cheer her up_.

“Abby…” she whispered, taking charge of the moment. “Let’s not make any rash decisions just because we may have to, okay?” she said, focusing her eyes on Abby’s lips. “We have a good thing going,” Carol muttered tasting them tentatively, knowing very well it would soon snowball into restless foreplay and sex. Feeling Abby’s fingers dig right under her bra cups, she squinted her eyes shut and feigned enthusiasm. She would get excited in the end, Carol convinced herself, and even though she wasn’t looking forward to it, it would at least put an end to this weird and thoroughly inappropriate conversation.

* * *

“Carol, darling!” The smile on the woman’s face seemed genuinely delighted. “I’m so glad you could make it, it’s been ages since we’ve had any time to truly catch up.” She kissed the air on both sides of Carol’s ears, which always struck her as peculiar.

“Genevieve, the pleasure’s all mine,” she reciprocated as warmly as she could, and sat down at the table reserved for their lunch appointment. Her cheeks were glowing slightly like always when she knew she would have to put her best foot forward. Genevieve Cantrell was, after all, one of the big bosses Carol had to suck up to. _At least she’s interested in what we’re doing unlike some of the old geezers_ , Carol mused. Many of the longstanding trustees barely had a pulse anymore, and could not be bothered with the museum’s business in any active role.

“I got myself a Cobb salad. What would you like, Carol? Let’s put this on the expense account,” Genevieve said winking at her.

“I’ll have the same,” Carol agreed, nodding at the passing waiter who promptly took note of her order.

“How is everything going along, my dear?” Genevieve asked after the waiter had filled their glasses with dry and crisp Riesling. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Her connections, or rather her late husband’s good name, had proven useful many times.

“I think it’s finally happening,” Carol was relieved to tell her. “The French are cooperating perfectly, and I even managed to secure that young specialist you so kindly recommended. She seems just what we’d been looking for.” She was sure she had earned herself a sip of the fine wine.

Lady Cantrell looked very pleased. “That is marvelous news, Carol,” she complimented. “I knew that girl – well, I guess I should call her a woman, she is a grown-up after all – had a promising track record, but you can never tell if what you see on paper is what you find in the actual person.”

 _She’s a woman alright_ , Carol mused, listening to Genevieve Cantrell share her initial views on her newest recruit. “I don’t think we have to worry about her in any way. She is dedicated, hardworking, precise… what more could we possibly want?” She smiled at Genevieve in the way she hoped would clear her mind of all doubts.

“What a relief to hear all that,” Lady Cantrell beamed at Carol. “It’s such a load off my mind to know you’re handling this so assuredly,” she continued, squeezing Carol’s hand across the table. “But how’s your private life, darling? How’s good old Harge doing?” The look on her face was warm and compassionate.

“Oh, you know, same old, same old,” Carol replied, reluctant to delve into it much further. “He’s not going to get any better, ever.” She put it bluntly but then again it was the truth.

“But you do have help with him, don’t you?” Genevieve wanted to ascertain. “I’m worried about you having no life outside work, darling.” Carol was suddenly grateful to have her salad to fork around.

“I have very competent help, and I’m most grateful for it,” she replied, “but I’m afraid it’s only a temporary solution. I simply can’t afford to keep the current arrangement going on for much longer.” _Too much information_ , Carol thought immediately, but when she noticed how understanding Genevieve appeared to be, she didn’t feel too bad about it. _Well, I said it_. _No harm done_.  

“I trust you will be able to come to the fundraiser on Saturday night?” Lady Cantrell asked when the topic of Carol’s personal life had been finally exhausted.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Carol said, beaming at Genevieve. “It is an important part of my work to kiss the hands that feed us.” She raised her glass to toast the upcoming event, a gesture Lady Cantrell happily returned.

* * *

“Do I really have to wear this penguin suit?” Dannie wailed as Therese was straightening his tie in front of a mirror. He wasn’t used to dressing up; as a matter of fact, he wasn’t used to dressing nicely at all. He glanced longingly at his torn jeans and snuggly flannel shirt he had on most days.

“Yes, you do,” Therese said in a manner that defied all objections. “You are my husband, and you must look your best escorting me out there tonight.” Dannie let out a sad little sigh, indicating he no longer intended to put up a fight.

She herself was donning a black, knee-length dress with lace panels on chest and thighs. With its generous neckline, it was far too daring for her taste but then again it hadn’t been her choice. Her hair was parted in the center and pulled back into a low ponytail, every last detail done according to Madame’s demands. “Go easy with the make-up, and show off your perfect skin, just some dark red lipstick to make that delicious mouth of yours stand out,” she had said over the phone. “I want her to really look at you.”

Therese knew Carol had looked at her already. She had gotten so many women to pay attention to her, she was well aware when and how she was being gawked at. When Madame had asked her about it, she had been reluctant to say anything on the matter. “I think she’s pleased with me,” Therese had acquiesced to say instead.

“You look beautiful, Therese,” Dannie said, finally able to see beyond his petty grievance. “You are absolutely stunning.” His words, meant as candid and heartfelt, had an adverse effect on Therese who remembered the same sentiment from an entirely different time and place.

* * *

“You look absolutely stunning, Therese,” Karen said, admiring the new red dress Therese was wearing, the one she had just bought for her 18th birthday. “I knew you were pretty the moment I laid my eyes on you but never in a million years did I expect to find you this gorgeous.” She circled Therese like a cat with its tail held up high, stepping silently on soft paws.

Karen’s words melted Therese for she wanted very much to please her. Blushing out of sheer pleasure, she didn’t know how to respond to such a compliment. All Therese knew was that she wanted Karen to say those things to her, to notice her, to see that she was making a real effort, even if the studies she had started confused her a great deal. Karen wanted her to study gemology, precious stones, which she had found peculiar to say the least.

“Is there really work to be found in this field?” Therese had asked her cautiously, having browsed through the course material without understanding any of it. Seeing the disappointment on Karen’s face, she had regretted her hasty question immediately. Hadn’t Karen arranged everything just right for her so far? She had provided her with housing and healthcare, bought every piece of clothing she owned, even given her a small allowance to buy whatever she fancied, be it an inexpensive piece of jewelry or a glossy magazine. Therese didn’t tell Karen about the jewelry, though, for she suspected a woman of her stature wouldn’t understand such frivolity, but secretly she enjoyed her unassuming rhinestone treasures.

Martha, Karen’s friend who worked in the building she lived in, had seen the items she had hidden in her vanity, but as far as Therese knew, she had kept her guilty secret. Therese liked Martha. She was kind and gentle, helpful and caring. Whenever Therese felt lonely, she sought Martha’s company, and they would spend hours chatting idly, laughing at harebrained jokes and silly observations on life in general.

 _Tonight feels different_ , Therese thought, standing before Karen who looked at her as if she was seeing her for the first time. It was also the first time she had been invited to Karen’s room, the one she kept for herself in the dormitory Martha ran on her behalf. It was tastefully furnished with long, lush curtains in the windows, a chaise longue, an antique vanity and a huge canopy bed one couldn’t help but notice first when entering her boudoir.

Even Therese’s fingertips were pricking with nervous excitement, as she waited for something to commence, to tip the balance between them. Therese wanted it to happen, for she had seen it coming for a long time now. _Is there anything worse than having to wait forever, no matter what it was one was waiting for?_ she had asked herself repeatedly.

“Happy Birthday, darling,” Karen said softly, handing Therese a flute of Champagne. “You are a grown woman now, and it’s only proper we celebrate it accordingly.” She sat on the edge of the bed and patted the place next to her. “Come here, Therese.”

Therese did as she was told as if in a dream. Her feet heavy, she found the few steps she had to take surprisingly difficult. Clumsily she sat down next to Karen, all too aware of the blood red haze coloring her face, dappling her bare arms. Therese was thirsty, and she wanted to drink, but as soon as the Champagne touched her lips, Karen took the glass away from her.

 _So this is how it happens_ , she thought as Karen pushed her on the mattress. _This is what it feels like_ , raced through her brain when Karen’s mouth pressed voraciously against her throat. Therese was breathless and giddy, terrified and turned-on, but most of all she felt privileged, miraculously picked out from a faceless crowd to be made to feel like _this_ , to be wanted like this by an exceptional woman who could have had _anyone_.

* * *

“Therese, welcome!” Carol beamed at her new assistant as soon as she saw her enter the ballroom with Dannie. “And this handsome young man must be your husband, am I right?” she asked, drawing out what was left from her smile to greet him courteously.

“Yes,” Therese acknowledged, “Darling – this is Carol Aird, my boss…” Noticing the faint freckles on Carol’s open chest, she lost her focus momentarily. “Umm… Mrs. Aird, this is Daniel, my husband.” Nodding, Dannie extended his hand to Carol.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Aird. Therese has told me so much about you,” Dannie grinned, turning on the charms.

“Good things I hope?” Carol laughed, winking at Dannie. _He seems okay_ , she thought, even though she failed to see what attraction such a _boy_ could possibly hold for her. “What do you do, Mr. Belivet? If you don’t mind my asking,” she continued.

Both Dannie and Therese burst out in chuckles, hearing Carol’s formulation. “It’s McElroy, Mrs. Aird, not Belivet,” Dannie corrected once he got over his initial amusement. “I’m afraid I couldn’t get Therese to take my name, but then again it was hardly a deal breaker for me.” Unwilling to discuss his profession in any detail, he was only grateful for the distraction. “I consider myself a very lucky man,” he said, placing a quick peck on Therese’s cheek.

“I’m sure you are,” Carol said, perturbed by his tender gesture. “I think I should introduce you two around,” she continued, looking away from Therese. As she ushered them forward, Carol realized she had placed her hand on the back of Therese’s dress. The young woman flinched under her touch at first, but when Carol was about to withdraw her palm, Therese slowed down her steps to let her fingers find the heated skin above the edge of her dress.

“Gen… Lady Cantrell,” Carol called out to her, “you must come and say hello to Therese.” Smiling, Genevieve Cantrell turned around to see whom Carol was talking about. “This is Therese Belivet, the new specialist I hired,” Carol explained enthusiastically. “I think she’s simply wonderful, and it’s all thanks to you that we have her here with us now.” _That came out a bit extravagantly_. “And this is her husband Daniel… McElroy, was it?” she asked Dannie, smiling graciously and forgetting him instantly.

“Therese Belivet…” Genevieve Cantrell said, her serene face radiating ready acceptance. “Carol speaks so highly of you, your ears must be burning every other day.” Her eyes were drilling a hole in Therese, which the object of all the attention didn’t find pleasurable at all.

“I believe I have you, Lady Cantrell, to thank for, for getting me this job,” Therese pointed out meekly. “I hope to live up to your expectations,” she went on, directing her words at Carol this time. “We will have exciting times ahead, preparing for the exhibition, and I am very aware of the tight schedule we face. Eleven months is not a long period of time when putting together a display of this magnitude.” She noticed Dannie shifting his weight nervously from one foot to another.

“With such a dedicated curator as Carol, and a charming husband by your side,” Lady Cantrell glanced at Dannie who tried to appear normal, “I’m sure you will do a splendid job.” She nodded at both Therese and Dannie before whisking Carol away for some urgent tête-a-tête.

“What on earth’s the matter with you?” Therese hissed at Dannie between gritted teeth. “Why are you acting so strange?” Looking pale, Dannie had beads of cold sweat on his forehead.

“You see that guy over there?” he whispered to Therese. “The one not too far away from your boss.” Therese tried to see whom he was talking about, but the man in question was presently surrounded by too many people. “It’s Richard,” Dannie muttered under his breath. “It’s fucking Richard.”

Therese let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course it’s Richard,” she said quietly, “did you really think he wouldn’t be here? With all the free booze and finger food floating around?” Therese took Dannie by the arm and approached Carol who seemed happy to have them approach her for a change.

“There’s one more person I absolutely have to get you together with,” Carol said, beaming. “Richard, will you join us for a second?” The man Dannie had so dreaded only a moment before walked swiftly over. “Therese, Daniel – may I introduce Richard Semco, the head of the museum security.” The tall, dark man grinned wickedly at the newcomers. “You must excuse Richard his bad manners,” Carol laughed, rolling her eyes. “He may look like a bad boy but deep down he’s gentle like a lamb, aren’t you, dear?”

Flashing a perfect set of white teeth, Richard looked very proud. “Whatever you say, Boss Lady, whatever you say.”


	4. The Crystal Heart

After the fundraiser, things at the museum were set in motion far quicker than either Therese or Dannie had anticipated. They were more than happy to see it happen, Carol having taken over the preparations with such fortitude, the staff had to do its best to keep up with her. After the first week, Therese had to admit she was more or less in awe of Carol’s unquenchable energy and keen eye for detail. The way she poured her opinions over the plans for the exhibition, how she wanted to acquaint herself with every single facet of the famous necklace and earrings, was nothing short of breathtaking.

“So these are just a part of the parure Napoleon I gifted Marie-Louise,” she explained to Therese. “Originally the crown jewels included also a tiara and a comb, which were sold and dismantled later on.” While talking, Carol had inadvertently gotten very close to Therese, which she only became aware of when her left arm bumped into Therese’s bent elbow. “I’m sorry,” she said, smiling bashfully. “I seem to lose all sense of my surroundings, when I get carried away.”

Amused, Therese didn’t seem a least bit troubled. “It’s okay, I like seeing you all worked up.” Noticing Carol’s apparent bafflement over her surprising remark, a wide smile spread over Therese’s face. “Relax,” she said, “it’s all good. I can look after myself.” With that, she leaned over the papers, her arms resting leisurely on top of them. Her slack posture, complete with her firm behind sticking out like a streamlined fastback, was enough to throw Carol totally for a loop.

 _Pilates or something_ , Carol mused, her eyes darting nervously anywhere but where they longed to settle. _That is a one tight ass_. Her hand flew up to her eyes as if she found it necessary to manually squeeze them shut for a while. _Focus, Carol, focus_.

“Umm… yes,” she picked up from where she had left off, “as you can see in the photo, the necklace consists of ten alternating oval and lozenge-shaped emeralds surrounded by diamonds.” Therese was still enjoying her carefree poise, she observed. “They are separated by palmettes, each one enclosing a small, round emerald.” To share a space this intimate with a colleague was something Carol had never experienced before. “And here you can see how the pear-shaped emeralds, also framed by diamonds, hang from each large emerald.” Their heads were almost touching as they went over the exquisite details. “The center one, which is 13.75 metric carats, is eight-sided…”

Carol lost her train of thought. The pressing proximity was almost suffocating to her. Carol could sense the warmth of Therese’s body, the flesh-and-blood reality of her standing too close to her. She couldn’t figure out how they had ended up that way, what had prompted them to act as if the walls were closing in, squeezing them together like helpless captives in some third rate adventure movie.

Carol needed to take a step back and to breathe freely, to put an end to what she knew to be foolish and, even more than that, totally unprofessional, but she couldn’t get her legs to move fast enough. She couldn’t get them to move at all. Therese, on the other hand, seemed more capable of action although she took her time before widening the nonexistent gap between them. “It’s superb,” she said, getting slowly up and stretching her back. “And the earrings compliment its grandiosity perfectly.” Seemingly unperturbed by what had happened, she yawned and reached for the water bottle on the side table. “God, it’s been a long day,” she said after a pleasurable swig. “I think we did good today.”

Gradually reclaiming her lost faculties, Carol felt dumbfounded and positively silly having lost her concentration over a strange happenstance. “We did. Thanks.” Her words came out so quietly and subdued, they jolted Therese who had thought nothing could get to her anymore. She felt bad having subjected Carol to her subtle antics for she had indeed done so. She had been reading Carol ever since their first meeting, making mental notes on her body language. So far her instincts had seemed accurate, and this last test only served to prove her point. Therese had learned from the best how to use her sex appeal to her own advantage, and how to make it seem innocent and incidental at best. _I could pick you up right now, and make you do things you’ve never even dreamed about._

Still, something about her boss seemed fragile, almost _gossamer_ to her now, and she regretted having taken advantage of it so calculatingly. The desire she had recognized in Carol had vanished only to be replaced with shame, Therese noticed, and it depressed her more than she was willing to admit.

Madame would have welcomed the news of her stepping up her game – kissing her, wanting her right there over the documents Dannie was eagerly waiting for. Had Therese decided to have her way with her, Carol wouldn’t have known an emerald necklace from a string of pearls, and Therese could have done whatever she pleased with those precious papers she kept so stubbornly to herself. Therese saw it happening in her mind’s eye; how easy it would be, how excruciatingly blissful she could make it for her, and, as a result, how very _cruel_.

She would have liked to call it common decency that stopped her at the last minute, but it wasn’t that simple. No, not simple at all. All those other times in situations like this she had made her move without another thought, but now she hesitated, she was terrified. Therese _wanted_ to kiss her, and it made no sense to her. When the wish to do so became almost too much to be contained, she started doubting her sanity and better judgment. _This job, it’s getting to me, that’s all_ , she told herself. _Don’t lose your head_. _After this one you will be free_.

* * *

“How much do you reckon these are worth?” Carol asked when they were packing up to leave. “Or can anyone put a price tag on them in the first place?”    

Carol’s question surprised Therese, and for a moment she wasn’t sure if it was proper for her to even talk about it. “In a way, they are priceless,” Therese admitted. “The amazing historic value in itself renders all estimates modest at best.”

Carol nodded, but her curiosity was still far from satisfied. “Humor me, please, just for the argument’s sake…” she said pensively, “what would be the going price?” Stacking the documents together, she waited for Therese to give her a well-founded answer.

“Well…” Therese started hesitantly, “maybe four, five million dollars? I believe The Louvre paid close to four million euros for them at the time.” The topic was unnerving to her, and it was beginning to show.

“Five million dollars, huh?” Carol repeated, her hands on her hips. “That’s a nice chunk of change, don’t you think?”  

Knotting her brow, Therese felt slightly nauseous. “It is a lot of money,” she acquiesced to say. “But it’s not about their monetary value, now is it?” she needed to underline.

“Of course not,” Carol laughed in her carefree fashion. “But it’s sure nice to know the size of the treasure that’s being trusted for our safekeeping.” She grabbed the folders on the table and started towards the door. “I’ll lock these up, and we’ll continue this in the morning.” Smiling at Therese, Carol stepped out and disappeared into the corridor.

 _Bye_. For the longest time, Therese remained standing right where Carol had left her. She needed to get her hands on the documents now. Dannie would go berserk, if she were to return without all the specifics he so badly needed. Therese turned out the light and sat waiting in the dark for everyone else to leave.

* * *

Once it had become obvious the documents weren’t easily accessible to her, Therese had asked Dannie to invite Richard for a hot midday tryst. The surprise evident on Dannie’s face had withered away only after Therese had told him to undress Richard _outside_ the bedroom – that way she could sneak in unnoticed and borrow Richard’s all access museum keycard to make a copy of it while the boys were at it. 

Everything had worked according to her plan, and now she had the means of getting into Carol’s office. The beauty of it all was that were anyone to later see who had visited her boss’ room after hours, the surveillance system would indicate the entry belonging to none other than Richard Semco. Another reason to leave him in the dark for now, she had explained to Dannie.

An hour passed by, then another. Therese knew it always took an extended time for Carol to leave. For some reason, she was reluctant to go home. Whatever was waiting for Carol there held obviously no interest to her, Therese had concluded. Quietly she opened the wooden cabinet by the door and pulled out a sports bag she had hidden in the bottom. She got rid of her work clothes and slid into a black cat suit that not only covered her entire body but provided a tight fitting hood for her head as well. A ski mask hid her facial features completely: even though she knew the locations of the security cameras, she didn’t want to risk being caught in any of them as her real self.

It was pitch black when Therese finally dared to step out of her room. She listened carefully, ready to retreat at any time. The silence was eerie, and she welcomed it. The staff had abandoned her side of the building, which made her feel safe in the dark. Her rubber-soled sneakers light as feathers, Therese approached Carol’s office slowly but surely. She was in no hurry – she never was when something needed to be done with utmost care. All this time Therese had her flashlight ready, but she didn’t need it, for she knew exactly how many paces separated her room from Carol’s.

Therese glanced at her wristwatch before using Richard’s RFID card. She had timed her entrance to coincide with the security guard’s coffee break to maximize the possibility of him not noticing someone gaining entrance inside the building he thought to be empty. She waved the card over the electronic lock, and the signal light turned green with a shrill beep. Therese froze momentarily to listen once more before pushing the door open with her gloved hand. Inside, she removed the mask from her face.

Carol’s office bathed in weak light that emanated from distant street lamps and nearby lit buildings. The room looked like Carol, Therese thought, clean and organized with a few choice objects scattered here and there to give it character. A picture of a young girl – _Rindy_ , the frame stated in ornamented letters – of about six years old adorned the desk, accompanied by another, a wedding photo of a laughing young woman with a dashing man next to her. The woman resembled the child, and soon Therese realized they were one and the same. _Rindy looks like Carol_ , Therese thought. _Like Carol but happy_. Next to the portraits she saw a small statuette, a crystal angel holding a tiny, pale pink heart in its hands. It looked so out of place there, it made her smile. Therese thought about the rhinestones she had accumulated over the past decade.

Keeping away from the window, she moved around the room, drinking in the details she hadn’t dared to really look at while being there invited. There were papers on Carol’s desk but she wasn’t interested in them. What she had come to look for were definitely not in plain sight. _Where would she keep them?_ Therese asked herself, sitting down at Carol’s chair. _In a locked drawer?_ She picked the lock on one of them and found nothing but bank statements belonging to Carol and Hargess Aird. _He must be the husband_. There was no photo of ‘Hargess’ anywhere, occurred to her suddenly.

The second drawer was a veritable treasure chest of – tampons, paper clips, a small mirror, a tube of lipstick and some lose change. Therese pulled the top off the tube and raised the stick on her lips. Luscious crimson colored her mouth, as she paid attention to her reflection in the mirror. She applied it heavily, one coat after another until her lips looked garish and slightly disturbing. The memory of what had taken place in her office earlier came back vividly, and it was enough to make her hyperventilate. _For fuck’s sake, calm down!_ Therese ordered herself. She returned the lipstick in the drawer and closed it abruptly as if she were discarding an audacious part of her brain that didn’t know how to quit on its own.

Catching her breath, Therese let her sight wander over the walls looking for clues or, rather, inconsistencies that would give away a secret hideaway. _A lithograph, an exhibition poster, a coat rack, a bookcase stacked with museum catalogues and research literature, an empty glass vase in front of a large postcard-size reproduction of The Vitruvian Man… wait!_ Something didn’t add up. Therese aimed her flashlight at the space behind the postcard, its sharp halo revealing an almost imperceptible, vertical crack in the wall. _There you are_ , she smiled at her discovery. _An embedded safe behind the bookcase_.

Examining it briefly, Therese was relieved to find it a basic model with La Gard 3750 digital electronic lock. Now she would only have to guess the right combination. _Luckily most people are predictable_ , she mused, going over all the conversations she and Carol had had so far. _Does she have a cat?_ _No, I don’t think so_. She paused for a moment. _Her birthdate?_ Therese pressed 14051969. _Not that predictable._

She tried ‘Hargess’, replacing each letter with its numeric counterpart: 4183388. _No dice. Darn._ Then it hit her. _The girl on the photos – what was her name again? Rindy._ Holding her breath, she pressed 85620… and the steel door swung gently open. _God, Carol, I just adore you_. The sense of gratification washing over Therese knew no limits.    

She removed the folder from the safe and spread the documents over Carol’s desk. Having adjusted the table lamp to focus its light strictly on the papers alone, Therese scanned the pages with the handheld device she had brought along. When she was finally done, she made sure the papers were back in the original order and neatly stacked inside the folder.

When Therese was about to put the folder back into the safe, another pile of securely stored papers caught her attention. Hesitating, she pulled them out and sat down again. What Therese saw surprised her since it wasn’t at all what she had expected: the immaculate, perfectly groomed Carol Aird was on the verge of a personal bankruptcy. Her incapacitated husband’s care draining every last penny of her income, she was going bust in a frightening speed. The Airds were mortgaged up to their necks, but it was Carol’s beautiful neck Therese was mainly worried about. _So she isn’t just some society lady killing time with a job as a mere hobby_ , she mused finally closing the door of the safe.

A wistful look on her face, Therese gazed at the room, at all of its charming facets, which spelled Carol to her. Making sure everything was exactly the same way as she had found them, she walked over to the door. Her hand already on the handle, she stopped and turned around. She couldn’t go without _it_ even though she knew it was wrong. And, moreover, she couldn’t go without leaving something behind.

Smiling, Therese picked up the inexpensive crystal angel from the desk and put it in her pocket. In its place she left a vintage emerald and diamond ring she wore in a long chain around her neck, a piece of art deco jewelry Karen had given her on her graduation day. _I don’t care for it myself anymore but it might be of worth to you_.  


	5. The Ring

“Are you happy, Dannie?” Therese asked quietly as she watched him examine the documents closely. She put her hand on Dannie’s back, and it was only then that he seemed to notice Therese at all.

“Huh?” he asked, glancing absent-mindedly over his thick reading glasses. “Yeah, these are great…” he mumbled, swallowing the rest of the sentence that wasn’t going anywhere anyway. Therese knew he would talk about his work when he was good and ready, but she wished she could have spent some time with him right now. It wasn’t anything special she was after, just a relaxed moment over a cup of tea, shooting the breeze, was all she was hoping for.

Nowadays Therese missed him even when they were in the same apartment, for Dannie was always either immersed in his work or high-strung because he wasn’t. He had changed over the years, although the frolicsome boy she had gotten to know still managed to delight her on occasion. Dannie was the same age as Therese, 27, yet he looked older even though he rarely acted his age. Something in him had ceased to grow, to spread new tendrils out to the world, as if whatever he had inside had stubbornly decided to remain lodged in. For Therese, it was a terrifying sight to witness, and most of the time she had to look away. At times she could see it gnaw at him like a greedy tumor that ravaged his body and thinned his winning smile into a mere wince.  

Theirs had never been a romantic relationship, and their marriage was a sham, another elaborate fabrication designed to serve Madame’s purposes. Yet there was real love between the two of them, the love of two people who had no one else to trust or to turn to. Therese loved Dannie as fiercely as any sister could ever love her brother, and even though she could feel him drifting further apart from her, she knew he reciprocated her feelings fully.

* * *

_Eight years ago_

“Therese, I’d like you to meet Daniel,” Karen introduced them one Friday afternoon when Therese had returned from her appointment with her probation officer. A baby-faced guy with a brown, curly hair grinned at Therese with no apparent reason, which she found irritating at first. When it became obvious that Karen meant to leave her alone with him, Therese was even more annoyed. She had hoped to spend the rest of her day in bed – with Karen. “Now, children, play nice,” Karen said, making her exit shortly after.

“You sleeping with her or what?” he blurted out, noticing the weird look on Therese’s face. “Did I spoil a heated tumble in the sheets? She doesn’t look like the type that likes to get her hair mussed up.”

Therese wasn’t sure if it was his surprisingly accurate guess that blew her away or the thick Brooklyn accent he said it in, but all of a sudden she burst out in giggles. “And what if you did!” she laughed, inexplicably relieved. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere – or she, for that matter.” Therese grinned at him gleefully. “But what on earth has brought _you_ here, dear _Daniel_?” She fancied him already.

“Edgecombe Correctional Facility,” he informed promptly, “and it’s Dannie, not Daniel.” His round, funny mug appealed to Therese, and he seemed to take an instant liking to her as well. “Can we get something to eat? I’d kill for some steak and eggs…” Realizing what he had just said, Dannie cast a worried look at Therese. “Not that I am a killer or anything.”

Chuckling at his misplaced insecurity, Therese linked her arm through his and started pulling him down the street. “Come on, you silly, I know just the place for us.”  

* * *

Dannie was still enmeshed in his work when Therese retired to the bedroom. Lying on her back, she watched the streaks of light chase one another on the ceiling. It was never completely dark in that particular room, and she liked it better than many others they had shared before. Normally she didn’t mind the pristine darkness, for it allowed her to do her work in peace and quiet, but when it was time to sleep she found it smothering. It seemed to come too near, to dissolve the line between her eyes and the night as if a heavy cloak of velvet had been forced upon her face. Here it never happened, the vibrant city a soothing kaleidoscope above her head.

Therese reached for the crystal angel she had waiting on the nightstand and turned it around in her hands. It looked smaller and somehow solitary, she thought, pressing its sculpted edges against her soft palms. Without giving it another thought, she slid the angel inside her nightgown just above her waist and turned on her stomach. When the sleep finally diffused her mind, the last thing she imagined were its wings riddling her skin.    

* * *

Carol had to take a day off because of a sudden change in Harge’s condition. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just something that happened every once in a while – a common cold making it hard for him to breathe, which was already difficult for a man who had to resort to wearing an oxygen moustache as a rule. Abby had tried to convince her that she would have everything under control, but seeing her struggle with Harge had made Carol decide otherwise.

Carol liked Abby, there was no doubt about it in her mind. When she had placed an ad in the newspaper looking for professional help, Abby had been one of the first to offer her services. Interviewing prospective candidates, Carol had been stunned to find out how preposterously expensive Harge’s care would become. When Abby had come in to talk about the work, Carol had all but given up hope in finding someone to look after him.

Miss Abigail Gerhard, ‘a spinster of her own volition’ as she had playfully introduced herself, had made an agreeable impression on Carol instantaneously. She was an easygoing woman who shared Carol’s views on making Harge’s life as homey and laid-back as possible. When Carol had brought up the question of money, she had been prepared to let her go just like all the others before her. To her great surprise, what Abby was asking for wasn’t excessive at all, quite the contrary. Carol had to repeat her inquiry twice to really believe she had heard her correctly the first time.

“Are you sure this is what you want for all the work it will entail?” Carol had needed to ascertain. “I don’t want us to get started under any misconception on my part.” She must have somehow misunderstood her salary demand.

“I’m quite sure,” Abby had replied, smiling generously. “I am aware that what I am asking for is somewhat below the average, but then again money has never been the deciding factor for me,” she had specified. “I take my vocation seriously and I take pride in it. I enjoy a challenge, and I’m at my best when I feel comfortable with the people I work with.” Carol had found her sincerity so touching, she had hired her on the spot.

“You should go to work, Carol, I’m more than capable of handling this on my own,” Abby said when they had successfully drained Harge’s sinuses.

“I can use a day-off, to tell you the truth,” Carol confided in her. “I’ve put in so many extra hours, I feel no guilt whatsoever being here with you two.” She circled her arm around Abby’s waist and squeezed her gently. “Besides, my not being there will give my staff a welcome break,” she snorted. “I’m certain I’ve exhausted them many times over.”

Abby placed her hand over Carol’s arm. “Who wouldn’t want to be exhausted by you?” she asked, and even though her words were laced with clear innuendo, the way she said it was tender and kind.

 _How did it all happen?_ Carol mused, watching Abby clean the nasal tube in the sink. _How did I let it begin?_ It had been the day after Rindy and Jon’s visit, the two of them sitting at the kitchen table and talking about how radiantly happy the newlyweds had appeared to be. Abby had never met Rindy before, yet she had made such keen observations of her sunny character, of how attentive Jon had been to her all the time they had spent together.

Sometimes it’s all that it takes for two lonely people to come together, Carol had thought afterwards. Although she didn’t know an awful lot about Abby’s life, she suspected her to be lonesome, too, or at least living an awkward, isolated life somewhere in the city. They had borrowed the affection so palpable between Rindy and Jon, and made it their own for a fleeting moment. It wasn’t theirs to have, and Carol had known it even then, but it had been enough to kindle a passion that had carried over several months.

Then it had subsided, for Carol. Her interest had flagged toward the end of the first year of Abby’s employment. She had done a pretty good job hiding it, she thought, although the sex hadn't been as frequent as before. Nowadays it was sporadic at best, brought about by Carol’s feelings of emptiness or by mere physical urges. Guilt had a lot to do with it as well, and gratitude she felt toward Abby.

As she fell more and more back in her payments, in coming up with Abby’s full salary each month, she found herself making up for it with sex. Carol had become conscious of it only after Therese had joined the museum staff, and the crass epiphany filled her with dread. She tried to put it out of her mind, but every time she touched Abby, she was overcome by the image of the young woman looking at her, _scrutinizing_ her. _If she knew what I’m like, she wouldn’t have anything to do with me_ , spun around in Carol’s head.

* * *

When Carol left for work the next morning, Abby was still asleep in her bed. It was far too early to wake her up, let alone commute to the city, but she wanted a head start after having been away from the museum for one whole day.

Entering the building, she greeted Bob, the security guard on duty. “You an insomniac, Mrs. Aird, or what on earth are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” he asked cheerfully. His night shift was about to end and he was happy to exchange a few words with another living and breathing human.

“Early bird and all, Bob, you know the drill,” Carol laughed, passing him by. “Anything out of the ordinary while I’ve been away?” She always asked him the same question.

“Just me and the mice, ma’am,” Bob chuckled. “It’s been quiet as in a tomb around here for as long as I can remember.” His reply didn’t differ either.

Finally in her office, Carol hung her jacket in the coat rack and sat down on the couch next to the window to flick through her agenda for the day. The sound of a vacuum cleaner emanating from the corridor interrupted her musings. She took her briefcase and moved behind her desk, but just as she was about to pick up the papers she had left there for her further deliberation, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. An exquisite emerald and diamond ring lay on the right side of the tabletop as if it had been casually picked up from the floor and placed there for her to find. Perplexed, she turned the ring around looking for information as whom it belonged to. There was no engraving on it.

Quickly, she got up and stepped outside of her room. “Maria,” she addressed the cleaning woman who was moving further away from her door, “has anyone been in my office while I was gone?”

Wiping away the runaway strands of hair from her forehead, the woman turned the vacuum off. “No, Mrs. Aird. We didn’t think it necessary to clean your room while you were gone,” she explained apologetically.

“No, of course not,” Carol mumbled, “thank you, Maria.” She closed the door behind her to block the sound Maria’s vacuum was about to make again. She walked over to the safe and opened it. Everything was in order, nothing was missing, nothing out of place. Still Carol couldn’t shake off the feeling that something _else_ was also off. She just couldn’t figure out _what_ exactly. For a second she doubted her own sanity, thinking she must have somehow swiped the ring off from the museum collection and taken it over to her room for a closer inspection. Going through the catalogued items, she already knew she wouldn’t find any mention of the ring there. It was as if it had dropped out of nowhere only to haphazardly land on her desk.

Although her cheeks were burning up, Carol felt oddly calm sitting quietly in her chair. She kept staring at the ring, almost expecting it to speak, to divulge its mystery like a magic talisman ready to grant her any three wishes.

It was way past lunchtime when Carol came to see Therese in her room. Therese had been expecting her, although she did her best not to show it. Typing on her laptop, she appeared completely focused on her task, though the words on the screen resembled mere rows of letters to her now. When Carol came so close that she couldn’t possibly be ignored anymore, Therese raised her eyes to greet her.

“Are you okay? I mean you were gone all yesterday,” Therese started. “I hope you weren’t sick or anything?” She sounded genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine,” Carol said, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her lab coat. “I had some personal business I had to take care of, that’s all.” She turned around to take a microscope out of one of the bottom drawers behind Therese’s back. It seemed to require an exceptional amount of effort, Therese noticed, still unwilling to take a look at what was keeping her. The tension she had not precipitated went from zero to sixty in no time. It was more than enough to make Therese exceedingly nervous. “Did you miss me?” Carol’s words startled her, but what could have very well been interpreted as a welcome opening, suddenly sounded ominous in Therese’s ears.    

* * *

_Five years ago_

“I bet you’ve missed me,” Karen said after she had pulled her out from the Greyhound bus leaving for Oregon. The police officers that had helped her to locate the runaway had agreed to let Therese’s ‘foolishness’ slide this time – as long as it would not happen again. Martha was waiting by the car. When Therese got in, she didn’t look her in the eyes.

“You really want to go to prison? Karen asked once they had left the Port Authority. “I can arrange it any time you want.” Her hand squeezed Therese’s wrist tightly, the manicured nails digging painfully into her flesh.

“My record’s been expunged,” Therese mumbled, tears stinging her eyes against her will. “I’m free to do whatever I want, and you can’t stop me.” What she had needed to say had taken all the courage she could ever muster.    

“Whatever gave you such an idea, darling?” Karen hissed at her. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” Stupefied, Therese tried to make sense of what she had just heard. “And you haven’t been much of a model citizen since your first transgression either, have you?” Dazed, Therese looked out the side window for solace of any kind. The high-rises the car was passing by seemed to curve and bend, to crush her with their obstinate weight. She loosened up her collar, took away the scarf, but nothing seemed to help her to breathe properly.

“I don’t care about myself…” Therese heard herself whimper. “I don’t care what happens to me.”

Sighing, Karen let go of Therese’s wrist and straightened her skirt. “Maybe not,” she relented. “But you do care about Dannie, don’t you, Therese?”

* * *

 _Did you miss me?_ Carol’s question ringing in her ears, Therese was grateful for not having to directly face her. To steady her breathing, she closed her eyes and focused on the one thing that always calmed her down – the various cuts of her beloved rhinestones. _Cabochon, rivoli, rhombus, chaton… I will bounce back any second now… flat-back, triangle, lemon, baquette…_ Her eyes flew open _. Did I miss you?_ She felt Carol’s hand lightly on her shoulder.

Therese wanted desperately to grab her hand, but when she looked on her left to make sure it was still there for her, she couldn’t help but turn deathly pale. Carol was wearing the emerald and diamond ring.      


	6. The Wicked

“Shit!” The black microscope Carol had held in her right hand smashed noisily on the floor. “Fuck… shit… fuck… shit…” she alternated in panic, attempting to kneel down to see the extent of her damage. Unspeakably grateful for the distraction, Therese jumped off her stool to help her out, to focus her attention on the expensive gemscope lying at Carol’s feet.

“Don’t move,” Therese said, “I’ll try to gather any loose pieces that may have stuck in your trouser cuffs.” The bulky scope had obviously survived its fall surprisingly well, but Therese wasn’t going to tell that to Carol just yet. Letting air slowly out of her lungs, she thanked her lucky stars for Carol’s clumsiness. Huddled next to Carol’s legs, Therese examined the folded bottoms of her grey slacks. Her fingers inside the cuffs, she searched for detached particles knowing she wouldn’t find any.

“Nothing here,” she said, making sure the trouser legs looked just as shipshape as before. Having picked up the microscope, Therese resumed her standing position and inspected the heavy instrument from every possible angle. “I think it’s alright. The gem clamp may be little loose but that can be easily fixed.” She placed it carefully on the table.

Carol let out a relieved sigh. “Thank God. I’d hate to tell Jonathan I’ve managed to wreck yet another one of his precious scopes.” She kept staring at the mute block of steel that had so efficiently ended whatever she had intended with her daring words. What on earth had possessed her to ask such a dubious question? How could she have had the gall to assume that Therese’s kind inquiry had had anything to do with her _missing_ her? Then again it had been an odd morning, first leaving her husband’s nurse naked in her bed and then finding the mysterious ring on her desk. _Thank God, I’m such a klutz_ , Carol thought suddenly.  

“You have a habit of breaking microscopes around here?” Therese asked. She welcomed the shift in the mood that had rattled her in more ways than one. The ring was palpably present, though, and she knew she would need to address it somehow. If she didn’t, Carol might become suspicious. Therese was, after all, an expert as far as emeralds were concerned, and her not noticing it would be highly suspect.

“Well, this would’ve been my second mishap,” Carol admitted, “but it is a pricey item, and he wouldn’t look kindly on such sloppiness.” When Carol fell silent, Therese knew she would have to ask about the gem on her finger.

“Quite a rock you’re wearing,” she started cautiously. “I don’t think I’ve noticed it before.”

“Oh,” Carol said, baffled. “Yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it?” _I really couldn’t come up with anything better?_

“It’s beautiful,” Therese confirmed, glancing at it, “and what a fine emerald with a classic cut… it’s about half a carat, right?” She knew everything about the ring but Carol might not have guessed its true value yet.

“I suppose… yes,” Carol stammered, taking a reluctant look at it. “Haven’t really thought about its value.”

Noticing Carol’s unease, Therese grew more confident. “You should. High quality jewelry is always a great investment. A security for a rainy day…” _Am I pushing this too far?_ “Or is it a wedding ring?” _Oh hell, let’s play_.

“Not exactly,” Carol blurted out nervously. “Harge gave it to me years ago, but I wear it only occasionally.” _Did I just say that?_

Therese couldn’t help but narrow her eyes just a tad. _Oh really?_ “So Harge is your husband?” She paused for a second. “He must be a generous man.” She felt slightly peeved at being lied to.

“Yes, he is,” Carol replied quietly. Ashamed, she couldn’t look at Therese. _I’m such a phony_.

“Lucky for you,” Therese said coldly. “A 5,000 dollar ring makes a nice gesture, if nothing else.” She could feel the anger building up inside her.

_5,000 dollars?_ The conversation had made Carol uncomfortable, and she regretted having fabricated such an infantile lie to begin with. What if someone in the staff would come to collect the ring from her? To say that she had lost it, while in a meeting in Carol’s office. What would Therese think of her then? Carol was a terrible liar, and she knew it better than anyone else. Therese seemed awfully distant all of a sudden, she thought, and it pained her to see that. Why couldn’t she have just told her the truth; that she had found the ring only hours ago, and for some unfathomable reason decided to wear it?

When Therese told her rather curtly that she was expected in a meeting in five minutes, Carol felt helpless and oddly desolate. Defeated, she returned to her office, ready to get rid of the stupid ring altogether. She took it off and put it on the table, but something about it seemed to beckon her irresistibly. It was as if its powers had not yet ceased to tempt her, to convince her that something more was to be deduced from its curious existence.

She put it back on her finger.

* * *

Therese dropped her bag noisily on the hall floor. She was in a very bad mood. When she saw what Dannie had done in the kitchen, she became even grumpier. “For God’s sake, Dannie, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she wailed her weary objection.

The small kitchen was a mess, the round table covered with papers, enlarged photos of the necklace and the earrings, a hammer and a cleaver, blades and drill bits. Two large crystal-growth furnaces dominated the space right next to the cupboards, almost blocking the bedroom door. Dannie himself was busy checking out the containers of hydrochloric acid he needed for synthetic emeralds.

“Hey you!” he greeted Therese enthusiastically. “Isn’t it great? I got all the stuff I need today, Martha and the boys brought them over.” He was humming a cheery tune Therese almost recognized. He paid no attention to Therese’s grief over what had happened to their combined kitchen-living room space. The mention of Martha’s name made Therese frown as she cleared a chair for her to sit in.

“Great…” Therese scoffed, exhausted. _No rest for the wicked_. She wasn’t surprised to see what Dannie had accomplished in just one day, and she couldn’t possibly blame him for it. He couldn’t set up his lab just anywhere even though producing synthetic crystals was hardly illegal. In view of what they were about to do, an endeavor such as this would on the other hand raise far too many questions. Madame hadn’t picked this place randomly. She had taken significant precautions in choosing the location of their domicile. If Therese had ever mistaken their apartment as home, she was now being reminded of her folly. They were doing a job, and this was their place of business just as much as the museum.

While getting a glass of water, Therese settled for a more amicable approach. “So is it yellow beryl for emeralds and cubic zirconia for diamonds?” Dannie wouldn’t want to talk about anything else anyway.

“Moissanite for diamonds,” Dannie enthused. “I’m really psyched about it. It’s gonna look so perfect, it’s too bad I can’t claim credit for it,” he chuckled.

Therese couldn’t share his enthusiasm. Maybe there had been a time when she had, when everything had felt like an exciting game. Something she had taken part in to impress a woman she had once been mad about.

“You do know this is the last time we’ll do her bidding,” Therese reminded him. She was worried about Dannie, about his mood swings and conflicting sentiments. If she couldn’t get through to him, no one would.

“C’mon, Therese, you always say that,” Dannie mumbled to her astonishment. “She’s not perfect, and she’s done some questionable things, but what do I have outside this? What do _you_ have?” He looked restless, unwilling to have this conversation.

“What the fuck, Dannie?” Therese exclaimed. “Questionable things? Is that how you see it? What is this – some kind of Stockholm syndrome?” She was suddenly enraged hearing him belittle what the both of them had had to endure for years. “You have family out there… the nephew you’ve always raved about… you could have a real life instead of this wretched survival.” Despondent, Therese was grasping at straws.

“Why would he want to have anything to do with me?” Dannie asked rhetorically. “I’m scum, I’ve always been scum, Therese.” The frightening thing wasn’t what he said, it was the way he said it, matter-of-fact and resigned.

“We can start over, you and me,” Therese tried desperately. “We’ll get as far as possible from her and begin anew.”

“With what?” Dannie questioned. “It’s not like she’s going to let us leave with a chunk of money to live happily ever after.” There was truth to his words, but Therese wasn’t going to be frayed by them.

“Anything’s better than this pathetic existence,” she nearly shouted. “Or would you rather stay with her and be forever fucked in the ass by her?”

Embarrassed, Dannie closed his eyes signaling he didn’t want to hear another word. “There are worse things in life…”

* * *

_Eight years ago_

“Karen…” Therese said as she moved slowly on top of her. It was a lazy afternoon, one that reminded her of many they had shared before, yet this time was different since it was a regular weekday.  

“Yes, Therese?” Karen asked, smiling the way she always did, quizzically, her bright red lips slightly parted. Her hands glided down Therese’s ribs, stopping only to press her hips against her pelvis.

“It’s hard for me to go on when you do that,” Therese laughed, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I can’t form words if I’m turned on.” Drawing an intermittent breath, she shut her eyes momentarily.

“Let’s not speak then,” Karen whispered in her ear, pinching the tender lobe with her teeth.

“But I want to,” Therese insisted, fighting the urge she couldn’t quench. “I need to tell you something.”

To her dismay, Karen’s hands stopped moving. “Is everything okay?” she asked suspiciously.

“Oh my God, yes!” Therese laughed. “I just want you to know that I’m happy, that you’ve made me so happy…” Emboldened by her conviction, she straddled Karen and looked straight into her eyes. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. _Nothing._ ”  

Karen’s eyes dimmed with unusual pleasure. “You’re so sweet, Therese…” She propped herself on her elbows and, tilting her head, beckoned Therese for an open-mouthed kiss. What ensued got heavy immediately, depriving Therese of oxygen. When Karen flipped her on her stomach, she felt dizzy and disoriented. She didn’t even realize that Karen left her by herself for a second. Therese became aware of it only when she felt the mattress give away under their combined weight, Karen pulling her down by the waist. “You have no idea what your words mean to me,” she murmured. Her palms, massaging her ass, were cool and slippery. “Now, relax…”

For a while, Therese enjoyed the deft hands circling her crack, the sharp nails scraping her back, tickling her sides. She grabbed the pillow in sweet anticipation, but when Karen entered her, her hands gripping her sides, Therese had no choice but to sink her teeth in it. _This_ she had not seen coming. It made her entire body tighten, her eyes widen with shock. “Don’t fight it,” Karen grunted. “It’ll feel good real soon, I promise…”        


	7. Diamond in the Rough

Therese called in sick the next morning. When Carol asked if she could help her in any way, Therese appeared rather tight-lipped about it. “It’s just something I ate yesterday,” she said. “I’ll be back at work tomorrow.”

At a loss what to do, Carol sat behind her desk, turning the ring on her finger. She had hoped to fix whatever harm she had inadvertently caused to Therese the day before, and the thought of being able to do just that had carried her through the early hours of the morning. Now she felt useless, all her energy draining away before the day had even properly started.

 _Knock knock_. “Come in,” she said, pulling herself together. Whoever it was who needed to see her unannounced was a welcome distraction.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Mrs. Aird?” Richard Semco was standing in the doorway.

“Do come in, Richard,” Carol replied. “You’re not disturbing me at all.” She motioned for him to have a seat across the table from her. “What’s on your mind?”

Richard looked uncomfortable sitting in the chair Carol had chosen more for its design than its functionality. He was a big lug of a man, which his boxy uniform only served to accentuate. “Um… we need to talk about the security for the upcoming exhibition,” he started, shifting his weight on the seat. “The French have certain stipulations we need to get ready for.”

Carol smiled benevolently at him. “Of course, but isn’t it a bit early for us to think about it now? I’m sure we’ll meet with their requirements.”  

Unaccustomed to speaking at length, Richard cleared his throat. “That’s just it, we won’t – not with our present standard.” He grabbed his thighs with his hands. “We have the basic surveillance system that has so far worked well for us, the closed-circuit TV cameras and the intruder-detection, but it’s not enough.” To be able to throw in a couple of professional terms helped him to collect his thoughts considerably.

“What do you suggest we do then?” Carol asked, slightly more interested than just a moment before.

“Well, I have a few ideas I’d like to go through with you, if you don’t mind?” Richard said, looking forward to show ‘the boss lady’ the plans he had with him. Carol didn’t mind, since she didn’t have anything better to do at the moment. Impatient to share his thoughts, Richard spread the drawings on the small conference table.        

“The necklace and the earrings will be placed inside a glass display case, as customary,” Richard started out. “The glass, however, can’t be any run-of-the-mill material. It needs to be what I call ‘smart glass’,” he elaborated. “Something that will have to be sensitive to not only touch but to changes in temperature and humidity as well.” The chubby fingers branching out from his meaty palms, Richard pressed the papers down as if he was afraid they would fly away and steal his thoughts with the flurry. “No one will be able to just smash it and run away with the loot,” he pontificated. “An attempt to do so will immediately seal the room leaving the perpetrator locked inside.”  

Finally curious, Carol examined the drawings carefully. The glass vitrine seemed to be mounted on a solid base with some sort of a hidden lock. “What is this?” she asked pointing at it.

“The first phase in opening the case without causing an alarm,” Richard explained. “Behind this hatch you'll find a special keyhole.” His voice was laced with boyish excitement. “Only one key will open this lock, and you, Mrs. Aird, have been chosen to take care of it.”

Stunned, Carol looked at Richard. “Me? I’m afraid I’m terrible at taking care of things, keys being the items I tend to most often lose.” The mere idea of being handed a task of such importance was unnerving to her.

Richard laughed kindly at her insecurity. “Oh, Mrs. Aird, you won’t have to worry about it,” he assured, “you won’t lose this one.”

Carol was certain she was missing something. “How can you be sure of it?” she questioned. “Where would I even keep it?”

Richard turned her attention to another drawing depicting the small key and the hole it fit in. “Around your neck, Mrs. Aird. At all times. You are not to remove it the entire time we have those jewels here.”

Richard’s idea sounded slightly better, but still she wasn’t convinced. “What if the chain breaks and falls off with the key?” she asked apprehensively.

“Should something like that happen, which I very much doubt because of its custom-made material, the security will know about it right away,” he assured Carol. “You see, the chain has to be in contact with your skin at all times in order not to set off the alarm.”

The ingenuity of the concept dawned on Carol in its entirety. “I do see…” she said slowly. “That is… I don’t even know _what_ that is!” she laughed, relieved. “How on earth has someone even come up with something like this?” Her question didn’t demand an answer, nor did Richard have one for her. Carol was impressed – not only because it made her feel protected but also because it gave her the feeling of being in control.

* * *

After her brief conversation with Carol, Therese took a cab downtown. She wasn’t ill, far from it, but she had needed to take the day off to do what she had been postponing for a week now. She was on her way to meet Madame.

Therese hopped off in front of an all-too-familiar building, the dormitory masquerading as a halfway house for misguided youth. She still had her key, and she used it, to avoid seeing Martha open the door, if not for anything else. When Therese got in, Martha wasn’t where she used to be – behind the counter that gave to her office and private room. The curtains were drawn in, and the door of her room locked. Over the years Therese had gotten used to seeing it ajar, and it had served as an outstanding invitation for her to visit Martha any time she felt like it. She shuddered remembering when she had no longer wished to do so.

An attractive young woman of about 19 passed her by as she walked along the corridor. Aloof and terribly self-conscious, the stranger was clutching a laundry hamper against her chest. She didn’t utter a word to Therese, nor did Therese say anything to her.

She took her time before knocking on Madame’s door, thinking of all the times she had done the same – the moments of impatient happiness, of eager exhilaration, of devastating disbelief and sheer desperation. “Enter!” Therese heard Madame command when she had made her presence known. Not much had changed inside the boudoir in past ten years. Then again it had never been her ‘employer’s’ real home, just a place for her to look after her _wards_ , as she liked to call Therese and her kind.

“You decent?” Therese quipped, standing in the doorway.

“Never, darling!” A laughing voice replied behind a half closed door.

“Who’s the flavor of the month?” Therese asked, taking off her overcoat and hanging it by the door. “Not a bad looking girl, that one. Definitely better than some of your former finds.” She got rid of her cardigan and started unbuttoning her shirt.

“Wanna make it a threesome?” Madame had finally emerged from the bathroom. She was wearing a mere silk robe with see-through roses on it.

“Why not?” Therese asked. “Want me to go and get her?” She still had her shirt on.

“I’m afraid it might get tedious,” Madame replied regretfully. “And I don’t want tedious, not right now.” She dropped the robe on the floor, and came very close to Therese. “I’ve missed you, Therese. You’ve kept away an awful long time…” Her slender hands caressed Therese’s face and neck longingly.

“Can we skip the foreplay, I’m not in the mood for it,” Therese said, half naked. This was the part her brain was never willing to deal with. Not that it had ever been a regular feature of their sex life, but lately she had noted Madame showing signs for what she had pegged ‘the confusing little extra’.

Sighing, Madame sat on the bed. “There are things we need to discuss,” she reminded Therese who knew it very well.

“Later,” Therese decided. “Lie down on your stomach. Now.” Smiling, Madame did as she was told. She knew the drill.

* * *

“I wish you’d still call me Karen,” Madame said, caressing Therese’s chest after the immediate need had subsided.

“You know damn well why I don’t,” Therese mumbled. She reached for the pack of cigarettes she knew Madame kept hidden in the bedside drawer. Therese hardly ever smoked, but here she usually made an exception. “And if you don’t want to spoil this, drop it.” She meant it.

Madame was more than willing to humor her. “Okay, okay,” she appeased her. “Why don’t you tell me all about our beloved Mrs. Aird? You’ve been working with her for a few weeks now.”

Therese did her best not to let her see how the mention of Carol’s name affected her. She concentrated all her attention to the cigarette she was lighting, and took her time before answering. “She’s a pro, very good at her job and a workaholic to boot.” The image of Carol arose from her depths like a weak hologram only to flicker silently out of reach again.

“Are you making progress with her?” Madame pried, lowering her voice as her index finger drew a sharp, straight line between Therese’s small breasts.

“Well, I got the documents, didn’t I?” Therese said, ignoring all other connotations the question was burdened with.

“You know it’s not enough,” Madame said. “Why don’t you have a bit of fun, darling? I happen to know she could use some.” She took a drag from Therese’s cigarette, and rested her head on her palm. “To tell you the truth, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to ask you this, but it looks like my initial plan has failed miserably.”

Intrigued, Therese looked at Madame inquisitively. “That’s a first, you wanting to save me from your dirty work.” Never once had she been given the chance not to commit the compromising acts Madame’s purposes required.

“What happened in Dallas really freaked me out, if you must know,” Madame said after a while. “You flew off the handle, Therese, and it worries me.” The memory of their latest gig troubled her, that much was evident.

“Do we have to talk about it?” Therese snapped at her. “You got what you wanted, so quit griping!” She was getting angry, for she didn’t want to remember any of it.

“What you did was excessive, I never asked for that,” Madame pointed out. “I told you to pull out, to leave her alone, but you just had to go and improvise.”

Therese could feel her breathing becoming labored. Fragments of her last night in Dallas circled her consciousness like sharks sniffing blood before she pushed them all back where they belonged, beneath her carefully constructed, well-rehearsed persona.

“Therese…” Madame coaxed her to calm down. “It’s alright…” Therese flinched, feeling her touch. “I know you, Therese. I _see_ you…” she continued calmly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Someone to see you as who you really are.” She put her arms around Therese, and this time her gesture met no resistance. “I know every last detail about you, and I’ve kept your secrets. I will always keep them.”

Therese didn’t say anything, nor did she feel anything. To be both nauseous and oddly comforted, rebellious and unfathomably meek all at once was exhausting. Every day she looked for signs of decay, of depravity in her fair face never finding any. She thought about the story her friend had once told her, the tale of the beautiful man who had done terrible deeds without ever having to pay for them because of his exceptional looks. “You could do that,” Olivia had laughed, “you could get away with murder if you wanted to.” But when her friend had talked her into ransacking that wretched man’s house with some ‘friends’ Therese had never met before, it had been her who’d been left behind to take the fall. What a stupid, idiotic child she had been!

Madame had seen what an unpolished gem she had appeared to be, a rough diamond waiting to be brilliant. She had only taken what she had thought could use cleaving and cutting, first extracting her essence from the raw block she was, then rubbing her exposed parts irreversibly against her own hardness. As a result Therese shone brightly to everyone who crossed her path.

There were no blemishes in her face or figure, but the rock inside had started to crack.  _Without them it wouldn’t have any character_. Carol’s words echoed bittersweetly in Therese’s ears. She thought of her still when Madame wanted her again, it felt good, it made her movements less mechanical, the act itself more pleasurable than in years.

* * *

The next day Therese went back to work. Instead of going to her office, she walked straight to Carol’s door. Overcome by strange excitement, she knocked on the door and eagerly waited for an answer. “Come right in,” Carol’s voice said. She stepped in, expecting to see her absorbed in her plans and memos, but Carol wasn’t alone. Someone else was in the room, sitting across from Carol, her back turned to the door.

Grinning, Therese greeted Carol, but when she recognized who the woman in the chair was, her smile froze on her lips.  _Martha_.

Martha, the one person she had counted on for so many years, the one whose betrayal had stung Therese almost worse than Madame’s had, looked startled noticing who was standing before her. Carol didn’t see what was happening between the two of them, she didn’t catch on their recognizing one another.

“Well, I must not waste any more of your valuable time, Carol,” Martha said, turning away from Therese. “I’ll let you know how it went as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, darling, for popping in,” Carol said, kissing her quickly on both cheeks. “Any time is fine with me.”

Without another word Martha nodded sheepishly at Therese and left Carol’s office in haste.

It took a minute for Therese to recover from the shock. “Is something wrong?” Carol asked. Therese’s face was ashen. “Maybe you should have stayed at home for one more day?”

“Who is that woman?” Therese stammered, not caring whether it sounded odd or not.

Carol cast a curious look at her. “Aren’t you being blunt today!” she chuckled. “She’s my husband’s nurse, Miss Gerhard.”                     


	8. Thunderheart

“Nurse?” Therese repeated, stupefied.

“My husband had a series of strokes several years ago, and I hired Miss Gerhard to take care of him.” Carol couldn’t understand why Therese seemed so upset about Abby’s presence in her office.

“How long has she worked for you?” Therese asked in trepidation. What she was learning terrified her beyond belief, her entire body recoiling from the shock.

“Umm… three years, maybe?” Carol tried to think back. “Yes, that’s right. This is my fourth year at the Met.”

_Three years_. The absurdness of it all blew Therese away. _They’ve been on it for three years_. She felt sick to her stomach, guessing how ruthlessly Madame had planned this one. Carrying on with the operations first in Phoenix, and then in Dallas, Therese had been totally oblivious as to what Martha was up to in New York at the same time.

“Will you excuse me for a while?” Therese managed to say, and before Carol had a chance to utter a single word, she ran out, heading toward the main entrance.

She bolted out of the doors and down the main stairway, but Martha was nowhere in sight. Panting, she remained standing next to the fountain. She was perspiring all over, but she couldn’t tell if it was cold sweat or the regular kind. Powerless to do anything more at the moment, Therese climbed the stairs to return to the museum.

“Therese…” Martha was standing behind a column, adjacent to the entrance. Therese had run out without noticing her there. Now that she had her in her sight, her eyes were blazing with anger.              

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Therese hissed at her. “Why are you here, and what are you doing with her, _dear Martha_?” she lashed out at her viciously.

“Keep your voice down... and please don’t call me that,” Abby’s eyes darted nervously around. “Let’s walk.” She attempted to grab Therese’s arm, but Therese wouldn’t have any of it. “I came here to let her know I’m taking her husband to the doctor’s.” Soon they were safely out of range for anyone at the museum to hear them.

“Her husband?” Therese nearly exclaimed. “Where is he? What have you done to him?” Her breathing was becoming agitated again.

“Relax, I haven’t done anything to him,” Abby assured. “Once I got outside, I called the boys and asked them to take him to his appointment.”

The news did nothing to soothe Therese’s troubled mind. “You asked Karl the Bull and Jimmy Three Fingers to take Mr. Aird to the doctor’s? Are you mad? He’s not only going to be scared shitless, he’ll tell Carol what you’ve just done.” She was beside herself with worry, although she wasn’t sure which reason bothered her more.

“He’s not going to say a word,” Abby commented dryly. “He can’t speak, and as far as the other stuff, I’d welcome a day not having to change his diapers.” Having said that, she frowned at her own words. “That was uncalled for… Harge is okay.”

Therese stared at Abby incredulously. They hadn’t seen each other for a long time, and not just because Therese had kept avoiding her. Abby had done the same; she had chosen to steer clear of her since she knew only too well what Therese thought of her. Seeing the younger woman she had befriended all those years ago was enough to stir up too many pent-up emotions in her. Where had once been laughter and easy camaraderie, only guilt and regret prevailed. She had done her best, Abby had told herself repeatedly, but had she really believed in her own conviction? But she hadn’t had any choice, not really, for she had known Madame for more than half of her life, already when they hadn’t been ‘Martha and Karen’.

* * *

_Twenty years ago_

“Will you be my maid of honor, Abby?” The question wasn’t as big a surprise for her as the decision to tie the knot had been.        

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Abby asked, her brow askew. “He’s _old_ , and I don’t mean in any May-October way either,” she specified. “I look at you, and it’s more like a flapper getting hitched to Moses.” The light-hearted tone she attempted wasn’t at all what she had hoped it would be.

“I like Julius,” the bride-to-be stated in a manner that defied all objections. “He’s quiet, gentle, and content with what he’s got.” Brushing her hair in front of a mirror, she had a rapturous gleam in her eyes. “And he’s loaded.” She winked at Abby mischievously.

“He also spends most of his time in an iron lung!” Abby exclaimed. “The poor man has one foot in the grave, and you’re dragging him down the aisle.” Truth be told, she was disgusted by all of it. She did, however, fail to anticipate the reaction her heated words would trigger.

“You want me to be smacked around like I’ve been so far?” her friend asked menacingly. “I’m up to here with so called virile hunks using me as their punching bag,” she shouted. “I’ve been pushed around all my life – first by my father, then by my brothers as soon as they got big enough to follow his lead.” Exhausted by her unexpected outburst, she put the brush down. “This is not the grand finale, Abby, and you know it although you don’t want to face it.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I want _us_ to be together – you and me – but before we can do that, we’ll have to have a decent nest egg to build upon.”

Abby didn’t want to face it. She didn’t care to see or hear about it, because being privy to her friend’s plan to marry a helpless invalid made her an accomplice, whether she liked it or not. But she loved her, desperately, passionately. What Abby wanted to believe was that this wasn’t just the beginning of something sordid but also its end as well. She told herself adamantly that it was so, but deep down she feared what was to come.

Neither one of them had ever had much money, but only Abby had made her peace with it. Neither one had known security of any kind. _Maybe I haven’t been cold enough to yearn for the tropics, not thirsty enough to know no limits to my goblet_ , she had mused in comparison. _I look at you and it already runneth over_ , Abby wanted to confess, but the words got stuck in her throat like thistles and thorns pricking a barren field.  

_The haves and have-nots_ , she had mused, reluctantly mingling among the fat cats and the high rollers because her friend wanted it so. Too many nights rubbing elbows with the nouveau riche had left a permanent stench of money in her clothes, Abby agonized privately. None of it had seemed to perturb the woman she focused all her attention on, she had noticed sadly. _Maybe it’s good she at least marries someone with a reputable name and solid wealth_ , Abby consoled herself.

“I know,” she said in a more conciliatory fashion. “It’s just that Julius can live for many more years, and I’d hate to think I’ll be alone all that time.” She tried her best to make amends.

“Don’t worry about it, darling. We’ll think of something.”

Two weeks after Abby’s friend Genevieve had married Julius Cantrell in a modest ceremony in London attended only by the three of them, a priest, two nurses and the bridegroom’s solicitor, Lord Cantrell passed away after a violent heart attack. No foul play was suspected, the ailing husband having been 92 at the time.     

* * *

For a while Therese couldn’t get a word out of her mouth. She wanted to pace around but couldn’t since it might have attracted unwanted attention. The plaza wasn't crowded enough for them to risk any ill-advised scene.

“So if you’re already _taking care_ of this, why am I even involved with it?” she asked finally. She was angry and unbelievably frustrated.

“Apparently I’m not doing a very good job at it,” Abby said. She remembered the last time she had shared Carol’s bed, how devoid of real passion it had been, at least on Carol’s side.

“Not good job at what?” Therese wanted to know. “You’re fucking Carol but the earth just doesn’t move for her, huh?” She was losing it fast.

“It moves alright,” Abby spat back, “but obviously not often enough, or at least that’s what Gen thinks.” Genevieve’s criticism and Therese’s hostility combined were way too much for her to handle at the moment.    

Therese pictured Carol in bed with Abby, and it nearly crushed her. “You’re fucking Carol…” she mumbled without realizing it herself. Abby, however, read her loud and clear.

“You know what, Therese,” Abby interrupted. “You know what I am to Carol Aird?” She wasn’t sure what possessed her to admit it to anyone other than herself. “I’m her pity fuck,” Abby scoffed, “and lately I’ve been even less than that.” Why would she hide it if she knew it to be true? Even Genevieve had cracked a tasteless joke about it the other day.

“What do you mean?” Therese asked, rubbing feverishly the corner of her right eye. The way it stung, she must have caught some dust in it. 

“For a long time it’s been more like collecting a bonus for a job well done. She is broke after all,” Abby explained. “But these past three weeks she’s been stingier than ever, distant and evasive. And I’m not a bad lay either, I’ve been schooled the same way you have,” she stated confidently. “It’s too bad, actually… she may look like an ice queen, but she’s a real wild cat in the sack. And that body of hers, oh my God… it’s so sizzling hot, you could fry eggs on it,” Abby went on, her eyes dimming involuntarily. “She’s a nice person, too,” she concluded hastily. It was an understatement, for Abby cared deeply about Carol. Then again she wasn’t going to tell that to Therese. _No way_. 

Something in Therese seemed to arise from the dead. “Oh…” she said. “That’s good to know…” Narrowing her eyes, Abby glanced at her amusedly. “That she’s a nice person.” Therese felt uncomfortably warm under her sudden scrutiny.

“Sure,” Abby said, seemingly unfazed. “It’s good to know we’re zooming in on decent folks and sucking them dry.” She looked at Therese sternly. “Because that’s what we do.”

Before Therese could respond, a sound of a broken tailpipe interrupted their conversation. “That’s Jimmy’s car,” Abby noted. A rusty, old Buick ran a red light and approached them too fast. “I hope everything went well with Harge. The doctor he’s been seeing lately may not have his license anymore but he’s still a damn good one,” Abby told Therese proudly. Listening to Carol’s financial troubles, she had found a way of her own to economize.

“Since you said he can’t speak or anything,” Therese started cautiously, “could I have a quick look at him?” She wanted to know what kind of a man young Carol had married.

“Of course,” Abby agreed. “Hang on.” She opened the rear door for Therese to have a peek inside. Harge was sitting in the middle with a gruesome-looking thug on each side. “I don’t know if you’ve met Dave? We call him The Dentist,” Abby introduced motioning to the guy sitting on Harge’s right side.

“Hello, Dentist,” Therese said, nodding kindly at the hoodlum with a winning toothless smile.

“Baldo, say hi to Therese,” Abby asked the bald goon on Harge’s left side. “He doesn’t believe in speaking,” Abby whispered to Therese. “And then we have Harge… you haven’t met Therese yet, but I’m sure you’ll be seeing a whole lot more of her in the near future.”

The look in Harge’s eyes was oddly familiar to Therese, but it took her a while to remember why. The resemblance to the famous painting by Edward Munch was simply uncanny. _He must’ve been a handsome man in his day_ , Therese thought, and it saddened her. She didn’t know squat about Harge, but she thought of Carol, of all the things she must have sacrificed to take care of her disabled husband.

“Therese,” Abby called her one more time before leaving with Harge. “Gen wants us to operate on this together. I may not be in the position she had wished for, but she wants me to back you up any way I can.”

Therese grew silent. She didn’t need anybody’s help, least of all with Carol. “I don’t know about that,” she hesitated. “And I don’t know about you.” She wasn’t going to forget her betrayal.

“I don’t think we have any say in the matter,” Abby said quietly. “I know how you feel, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about what I did or, rather, _didn’t_ do. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t.” The time was running out – the guys in the car were getting restless.

Unwilling to get into any deep discussion, Therese cast a disappointed glance at Abby and turned away. Halfway up the stairs, she grabbed her chest to calm her racing heart. Something else was stirring as well, cracking and turning in its cavity, never missing an opportunity to rub its hard, green edges against the tender flesh. 


	9. The Truth

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Genevieve hissed at Abby, when she appeared at her door uninvited. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of the cripple?” Tightening the belt around her thin silk robe, she stepped out in the corridor, closing the door promptly behind her. She wasn’t going to have this conversation in her quarters.

“Jimmy’s babysitting him for the time being,” Abby explained. “But what are you doing dressed like _that_ in the middle of the afternoon?” It was a futile question, and she knew it before asking it. To describe Genevieve’s sexual interests as prolific was an understatement she was well aware of.

“Never mind my garb,” Genevieve said brusquely, “it’s none of your business. You being here, when you should be attending to your responsibilities is, however, _my_ business.” She was irritated, but Abby couldn’t tell if it had more to do with her taking liberties or interrupting what must have been a pleasurable pastime so far.

“I bumped into Therese this morning,” Abby said matter-of-factly. “She wasn’t happy to see me, to put it mildly.” She kept a keen eye for Genevieve’s first reaction.

“Where did this unfortunate rendezvous take place?” Genevieve interrogated. There were no cracks on her façade yet.

“At Carol’s office,” Abby replied as bluntly as she could.

“What the fuck, Abigail?” Genevieve’s raised voice matched the apparent discontentment her whole body now exuded. “Did I give you a permission to show your face in that place? Did I?” she questioned angrily.

“It’s not like I had any choice – I work for Carol, remember? Meeting Therese there was just a weird coincidence,” Abby said calmly. She wasn’t going to lose her nerve now.

“What happened?” Genevieve demanded to know.

“She saw right through me, through _us_ ,” Abby said. “And she wasn’t particularly thrilled to learn we’d been keeping her in the dark.”           

Genevieve paced the little foyer they had stepped into. She reminded Abby of the caged animals she had seen in the Bronx Zoo a couple of years ago. “What did you say to her?” she asked after a while.

“I told her what the deal is,” Abby replied. She wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “She’s bright enough to find it out on her own, so I saw no point in embellishing the truth any further.”

Such candor didn’t exactly please Genevieve, Abby noticed. She was agitated and perturbed by her decision to level with Therese, even if Abby had had no choice but to do just that. “How is she? Now, I mean,” she finally asked Abby.

“Therese? Peeved,” Abby said. “And I’m fine, by the way!” Genevieve’s attitude pissed her off big time. Abby couldn’t remember the last time she had been interested in _her_ feelings.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Genevieve asked, taken aback by Abby’s edginess.

“You never ask how I feel,” Abby blurted out. “You’re not a least bit interested if I’m doing okay.” She hadn’t intended to air any dirty laundry but this was as good a time as any. “I love you, Gen, I always have, and I’ve believed it when you’ve told me that _our_ time will come.” She hesitated, but she also knew she had already said too much to back away.

“It’s never going to happen, and I know exactly why. You can’t love anyone who really cares for you and your wellbeing. No, you have to be either the abuser or the abused one.” Abby knew she was way out of line, and a part of her dreaded the outcome of her abrupt honesty. “I’ve become the useful idiot in your never-ending game of cat and mouse, the one not even fit for the latter role anymore.” She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she chose to ignore them. “But the sad thing is that I’m not even going to do anything about it, I’m going to be at your beck and call just like I always have, because I have nothing and no one else except you.” Defeated, she bowed her head.

“Abby…” Genevieve started, not knowing how to respond to her sudden outburst. “Abby, Abby, Abby…” She touched her arm, hoping to bring her out from her desolation.

“Don’t.” Abby whispered painstakingly. “Spare me your damage control, it’s humiliating.” At the same time she wished for it more than ever before.

“I’ve asked you to wait, and as far as _our_ plan is concerned, nothing has changed,” Genevieve spoke after a short yet weighty silence. “Don’t you go and lose your nerve now, darling, since we’re nearly there.” She meant to sound optimistic, and in any other situation she might have succeeded in it.

“ _There_? What is _there_?” Abby questioned. “You’ve said it so many times, I’m sick and tired of hearing about it. _You_ are never _there. You_ have never enough.” She was disillusioned and disappointed, even if the disappointment had more to do with herself than with Genevieve. _She is what she is, and I have never been able to change a damn thing about her_. Yet she couldn’t deny the fact that she had been attracted to Genevieve for the same reasons she now tried to despise her for.

Whatever she lacked, Genevieve always seemed to have plenty of – confidence, attitude, and taste. When life had been good, Genevieve had had the means of making it even better for the both of them. She had made her look better, too, by association. Hers had been a quiet, repressed life turned upside down with all the bells and whistles that forever spelled Genevieve Cantrell to her. How could anyone have passed such an opportunity to _live_? she had questioned all too often. Even now, spewing angry words, Abby felt it, the tingle of excitement she always experienced when in the same room with her.  

“We could have lived comfortably and never looked back from day one,” she continued. “But you were never content, you always wanted more – more money, more women, and the power to wield over them.” Abby wasn’t finished yet. “Then _she_ comes along, and all of a sudden you find you can’t bend her to your will, not in the way you wanted. Not like you’ve done with all the others before her – like you’ve done with me.” The realization wasn’t a new one for Abby, but it was a whole different thing to say it out loud.

“That’s ridiculous,” Genevieve objected. “If you’re talking about Therese, you’re out of your mind.” The best defense was a good offense, after all. “This is her last job, for God’s sake – haven’t I told you that?” Genevieve stared at Abby expectantly. “She knows it. Go ask her if you don’t take my word for it.”

Abby was confused. She didn’t know what to believe, although she knew what she _wanted_ the truth to be. For quite some time she had suspected Genevieve to have fallen in love with Therese, or at least formed a potent attachment to her she hadn’t seen happen with anyone else. It had bordered obsession, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Abby. But she wanted to think that what Gen was saying now was in fact so. She could very well ask Therese. She could call Genevieve’s bluff so easily it wouldn’t make any sense for her to utter such a blatant lie about it.

“Abby,” Genevieve said, noticing the effect her revelation had had on her. “You need to trust me on this, and keep your cool.” She sensed how pliable Abby had suddenly become. “We obviously need to spend more time together, darling,” she smiled. “You’re being paranoid, and I get it. It’s not exactly glamorous what you’re doing right now. I promise you won’t have to look at another adult diaper for as long as you live after we’re done with this.” She closed the gap between them and kissed Abby long and hard. “You need to have your faith renewed,” Genevieve murmured, leaning against the wall and opening her robe. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “How about you start by kneeling before me, lover…” she suggested, winking at Abby who chose only to see what was soon right in front of her face.

* * *

Therese spent the rest of the day with Carol going over the other items on exhibition, most of them on loan from the Smithsonian in Washington, the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, and the Imperial Treasury in Vienna. Though rattled by her encounter with Abby, she felt surprisingly at ease now, enjoying the relaxed privacy of working side by side with Carol.

Carol was still wearing the ring, Therese noticed, and despite the negative feelings the conversation with Carol had initially stirred in her, she was surprised to find them all having vanished from her mind. Every once in a while the gorgeous ring caught her attention, when her boss’ hands either made a point of showing something on paper or waved animatedly in the air. Never before had the ring brought Therese any happiness, but now, seeing it on Carol’s finger, it did. A smile was creeping across her face, although she tried her damnedest to suppress it. Therese knew she would look forward to seeing it every day from now on, and secretly she was overjoyed, that it had been her who had given it to Carol.

Carol had not asked anything about her earlier behavior, as off-kilter as it had been. She had only glanced at her quizzically, giving Therese the opportunity to talk about it, had she so wished. When Therese hadn’t, she had focused on the work at hand.

“It’s been such a beautiful day, I feel positively guilty having kept you indoors all this time,” Carol admitted when they were finishing up.

“I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a sunny day,” Therese said, taking a long look outside. “I’ve never been much of an outdoors person, spending most of my time wrapped up in books or in a gym.”

Carol looked at her curiously. “In a gym?” she asked. “Spinning or free weights?” Therese’s body was tight but bulky muscles it had not.

Therese laughed at Carol’s apparent amusement. “Neither. My mother was an aerial contortionist, and I used to accompany her to the gym as a child. I loved watching her practice, and eventually wanted to try it as well. Then it sort of stuck with me.”

She could have knocked Carol down with a feather. “Aerial contortionist? What on earth is that?”

The look on Carol’s face delighted Therese. “It means hanging from a suspended fabric high in the air, and doing climbs, wraps and drops while there,” she explained. “Performance art, you know.” She wanted to impress Carol.

“Sounds daring – and dangerous,” Carol commented. She tried to picture what an act like that would look like but couldn’t. _She must be very strong and flexible_. The thought alone was enough to make her blush.

“It requires a lot of stamina,” Therese noted modestly. “It is a demanding art and very risky. There are no safety lines, you know.” Now she was downright bragging.

“Did your mother have a successful career?” Carol asked, inexplicably flustered.

“She did,” Therese said, “but a very short one. Fell off her silks during a performance, a 50-feet plunge down to her death. Broke her neck.” She seemed strangely unaffected by the facts she had just disclosed.

Carol stared at her horrified. “That is… awful!” she gasped. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Therese preferred looking out of the window. She wasn’t sure what Carol expected her to say. “Yeah. It was unfortunate.”

 _Unfortunate?_ Carol felt bad she had asked about Therese’s mother at all. Then again it had been she who had brought her up in the first place. _Maybe she has never gotten over it_ , Carol mused. _Maybe that’s why she acts so cool about it_.

“It’s great fun, though,” Therese said, as if lightening up was all their awkward conversation needed. “Once you master it, you can do pretty much whatever you like up there.” Sensing Carol’s discomfort, Therese grew worried. “I don’t like to talk about her, that’s all.” She had been alone for years before becoming officially an orphan.

 _People grieve differently. Who am I to judge?_ Carol thought. And why should she assume that Therese had abandoned her art, even if it had claimed her mother’s life? “Have you ever performed yourself?” Carol dared to ask after a while.

“As a matter of fact I have,” Therese revealed proudly. “I was a rising star at 16, doing occasional shows here and there.” She fell silent, remembering why and how everything had come to an abrupt end.    

“Why did you stop? I presume you did since you’re here now,” Carol asked. To replace an adrenaline rush with gemology seemed like a stretch, though.

“I wanted to get a real profession, if you know what I mean,” Therese stammered. “Aerialists retire early anyway, so I figured a down-to-earth job would prove more practical in the long run.” She was starting to regret having referred to her exceptional skills at all.  

“Minerals are pretty much the most down-to-earth you can get,” Carol chuckled. “But didn’t you say you graduated from Carlsbad much later? What did you do before your studies?” Something didn’t quite add up.

Panic-stricken, Therese tried to come up with a possible explanation but to no avail. Her mind was blank, but her heart pounded heavily on her chest. _I broke into a man’s home and almost ended up in juvie_ , she wanted to shout out. Never in her life had Therese wanted so badly to confess and to ask for forgiveness for her sins, but even as the impulse kept throbbing in her brain, she knew she couldn’t possibly come clean about anything.

She had told Genevieve every last detail about her miserable life and her estranged mother after they had become lovers. Therese had confessed everything to her, but she had never asked her to _forgive_ her. Somehow she had sensed that it wouldn’t be Genevieve who could offer her absolution, but Abby, _her very own Martha_ , could. So many evenings and nights, shivering out of remorse and constant nightmares, Therese had stayed at Abby’s room. She had cried her eyes out, and Abby had listened, comforted and understood.

She had relied on _Martha_ , put all her faith in her, but when the scales had fallen from her eyes, she had lost all faith in friendship. As much as she abhorred Genevieve’s deeds, her calculated indifference, there was one thing she hated even more. Is there anything worse than to be betrayed by a friend? To find out she is not what she has claimed to be? To learn that your confidante had been playing the same game as your cruel mistress? We may hand our hearts to our lovers, but our souls we trust to our true friends.  

* * *

_Seven years ago_

“What are these?” Therese asked Martha, browsing a pile of letters on Martha’s table. The envelopes were addressed to people she didn’t recognize: Lena Weber, Ellen March, Eve Stephens, Vivian Bell… There appeared to be none for either Karen or Martha.

“Oh, nothing,” Martha hastened to say and picked them up quickly. “Just letters for some of the girls who have lived here before. Karen has the forwarding addresses, I’d better get these over to her.” She looked nervous and unwilling to talk more about them, which Therese found curious.

“How many have stayed here over the years?” Therese wanted to know. “Do you guys keep in touch with them?”

Martha knotted her brow. “Karen does, I think,” she said without elaborating it further.

“What were they like?” Therese never wanted to drop a subject she was interested in.

“Well, I don’t know…” Martha mumbled. She got up to make some tea.

“You don’t know?” Therese laughed. “What kind of an answer is that? You must’ve known them just like you know me.” Martha’s reluctance to discuss the other young women Karen’s program had helped stunned her.

“I didn’t. Not really.” Martha leaned against the sink, her back turned on Therese. “I think you should go now. I have a lot to do.”

 _Did I say something wrong?_ Therese wondered, leaving Martha’s room. Her evasiveness puzzled Therese but not as much as her gruff behavior. Martha had never hurt her feelings before.

Later that same day Dannie came by. “Wanna watch a movie together? I made popcorn.” The heaping bowl looked like just the thing Therese needed.

“Sure. What do you want to watch?” she asked with an approving smile.

“There’s an old flick on TCM I’ve wanted to see for a long time now,” Dannie said, switching the TV on. “I think you’ll get a kick out of it – it’s a dyke film,” he elaborated, making himself comfortable on the floor. Therese sat next to him. 

>   **THE CHILDREN’S HOUR… FROM THE PLAY BY LILLIAN HELLMAN…**

“We’re watching a dyke film starring Audrey Hepburn?” Therese sniggered.

“Shhh,” Dannie hushed her. “I hear it’s interesting. Depressing as fuck but in a kinky way.” Therese rolled her eyes at him.

When the movie began properly, she _really_ started paying attention to it. “Hey, Audrey’s got the same name as our fairy godmother!” Dannie giggled excitedly. “What are the chances of that?”

 _A coincidence_? Therese tried to get rid of her bad feeling, but when Shirley MacLaine’s character turned out to be _Martha_ , her whole body started to shake. Something about those letters was bothering her now. Something she had almost recognized when she had seen them, read the names written on them.

“Did you say they left together?” Therese asked Dannie, her face all white.

“Yeah, they were dressing up for some shindig an hour ago,” Dannie confirmed. “What’s wrong, Therese? You don’t look too good.” He sounded alarmed.

“Wait here…” Therese exhaled. “There’s something I need to do.” Despite Dannie’s objections, she ran out of her room and didn’t stop until she got to Martha’s door. It was locked, but she knew how to pick it with a hairpin. Dannie had taught her.

Not caring if anyone saw her or not, she turned on the lights in Martha’s room and started opening the drawers. _Letters, letters, I need to find the letters_ , kept hammering in her head. It wasn’t all that difficult – they were hidden under some papers in the top drawer of Martha’s desk. Without thinking, she opened one of them, then another, then one more. All of the letters were pretty much the same: heartfelt messages from young women not unlike her reaching out for an older woman who had for some reason discarded them against their will.

 _I need you... I can’t go on without you… I know things ended badly between us but… Please give me one more chance…_ The lines blurred in Therese’s eyes, they jumped off the pages and fused into a heartbreaking epistolary of distant cries begging to be heard.          

Taking the letters with her, Therese ran back to her room. “Your laptop…” she panted to Dannie, “I need it.” Realizing she meant business, Dannie went to get it for her.

“Therese, you’re scaring me,” Dannie wailed, as he watched her punch the names on the envelopes into a search engine.

 _Vivian Bell, played by Helen Shaver in Desert Hearts_. Therese had recognized it. _Ellen March, played by Anne Heywood in The Fox_. She felt dizzy. _Eve Stephens, played by Tilda Swinton in Female Perversions_. She wouldn’t even have to check the last name. _Lena Weber, played by Isabelle Huppert in Entre Nous_. The evidence stared straight at her, and all of it was probably just the tip of the iceberg.

“What is it? Why are you acting so strange?” Dannie was beside himself.

“They’re not Karen and Martha…” Therese’s voice was a crushed whisper. “They’re not who they say they are.”

* * *

Carol’s question demanded an answer. It hung heavy above Therese’s head like the sword of Damocles. “I worked at the Swarovski Crystal Worlds in Austria,” she blurted out nervously. The clumsy lie was the only thing she could think of after a painfully long absence of lucidity of any kind.

Fretting over its possible repercussions, Therese failed to notice how Carol’s movements slowed down as if the tectonic, or rather mnemonic, plates inside her head had finally clicked in place. She walked over to her desk and searched frantically for something. When Therese was about to ask what she was doing, Carol hastened to draw her fearful conclusion.

“My crystal angel…” Her voice trembled. “Someone’s stolen the crystal angel my daughter gave me.”


	10. Wonderful News

Carol was despondent. The crystal angel she had cherished had disappeared from the desktop, and she had no idea when it had happened. She could feel tears stinging in her eyes, and she had to sit down to calm herself.

Terrified, Therese stared at Carol, not knowing how to make the sudden anguish go away. She did know _how_ she would eventually solve the situation, but the crestfallen look on Carol’s face was too much for her to bear. She had brought this on. It was her selfish whim that had caused this inconsolable grief. Still, she would have to pull herself together, if only for Carol’s sake.

“Are you sure?” Therese asked apprehensively. “Maybe you’ve just misplaced it?” She tried her best to muddy the waters, to get Carol’s mind off the office as the most likely scene of the crime.

“I had it in here,” Carol insisted gloomily. “My daughter gave it to me when I returned to work. She said it was my guardian angel…” Her voice cracked.

“Sometimes we do things without noticing them,” Therese attempted. “We’re tired, and we pack our bags before we leave, and end up taking some seriously funky stuff back home with us.” Even she didn’t believe in what she had just said.

Carol, however, seemed to find some hope in her words. “You think I’ve mistakenly taken it home?”

Therese was relieved to see how willing Carol was to give it a benefit of a doubt. “You may have,” she said as convincingly as possible. “Stranger things have happened.” _Have they ever._

* * *

_Eighth years ago_

“Therese, Daniel,” Karen addressed her wards, “I believe a few more words on The Rough Diamonds program are in order.” Her smile was saccharine. “As Therese very well knows, this program is designed to get you started on a new path without you ever having to fret which way to choose on your own.” She motioned for Martha to start the slide show.

The first slide depicted mining in Liberia. “You have probably heard of blood diamonds?” Karen asked. “The illegal diamond trade to finance wars in third world countries.” She paused for a moment. “I have, in many capacities, taken a strict stand against the inhumanity the term implies. However, the wealthy Westerners’ fascination with precious gems won’t cease to exist by rules and regulations only.” She took a stern look at her young listeners. “We need healthy alternatives to feed their hunger.”

Martha changed the slides accordingly. A picture of a beautiful diamond bracelet was followed by another one of a gorgeous sapphire tiara. “Can you tell me what these two different pieces of jewelry have in common?” Karen asked. Neither Therese nor Dannie were willing to venture a guess. “They are both replicas of the real thing,” their gracious teacher pointed out.

“They’re fakes?” Dannie blurted out, amazed.

“Not exactly fakes, dear Daniel, even though some might say so.” Karen did her best not to show her patience wearing thin already. “I’d prefer to call them inexpensive reproductions not without value of their own.” Her sharp smile seemed to bring out all of her teeth. “Therese has successfully started her studies in gemology, and I would like to see you, Daniel, become her partner in our endeavor,” she stated. “My aim is to get you educated in the art of not only being able to appraise gems but also to make them from scratch to suit the needs of those who have always dreamed of owning the finest jewels in the world.” Enthralled, Therese couldn’t help but beam at Karen. “This way, I believe, we will lessen the reckless demand for the unethical business revolving around precious stones.” She winked at Therese. “I propose we start with making duplicate copies of some of the most revered jewels known to us. When you’re ready to commence, we will start with something simple and take it from there, okay?” Karen looked at them intently. Both Therese and Dannie nodded, even though they didn’t have a clear idea what an effort like that would truly involve.

Afterwards Therese went to see Martha. She was eager to talk to her about what Karen had said, and to hear Martha’s own take on the subject. “It’s very commendable and ambitious what Karen’s doing, isn’t it?” she said enthusiastically. Her unmistakable puppy love was showing.

“Karen’s been very active in her mission,” Martha commented. “She has ties to UN and to many multinational organizations involved with the gem trade. But she does have a soft spot for authenticity as well, especially for the historic items she would like to see on permanent display in the museums around the world.” She glanced at Therese who was still gushing over Karen.

“What does that mean exactly?” Therese inquired. She had an unquenchable thirst to know more about her lover.

“Karen sits in numerous museum boards, and she doesn’t shy away from spending money to get the really good stuff to visit the States,” Martha explained. “You’d be surprised how many famous jewels she’s managed to invite to our country, or at least she’s been a major influence in getting them here.”

Therese was impressed. If she had had any reservations about her studies, she was being serious about them now. To know that her working diligently for her degree was Karen’s fondest wish was a reward in itself, but to learn that she was doing something for the common good was the icing on the cake.   

* * *

Carol told Therese she would have to work exceptionally late that evening. There were many things that demanded her attention, she explained, and later on she would have an important meeting to discuss the current state of the upcoming exhibition. It was a bit too much for her to deal with right now, she confided in Therese, but then again it was nothing new. Miss Gerhard would take care of her husband, and if she were lucky, she might make it back home before nightfall. 

Therese welcomed the news, for it gave her the opportunity to return the angel. She wouldn’t even have to resort to any trickery to get inside Carol’s house, since Abby was there. She could just march through the front door, place the crystal figurine in Carol’s room and be done with it.

Three hours later she was standing behind the door of Carol’s house. She had had the good sense of calling Abby beforehand to let her know she was coming. She neglected to mention why she needed to pay her a visit, though.

“Why are you here?” Abby hissed at Therese, blocking her entry. She couldn’t understand why it had been so damn important for Therese to come in the first place. Her being seen there could be viewed as suspicious, should the neighbors ask Carol about the stranger lurking around her home. Her own behavior could be seen as odd as well, were she to let her in while the mistress of the house was gone.

“There’s something I have to do, and it involves Carol’s bedroom,” Therese responded vaguely. She knew her reason sounded shady at best.

“Why am I not comforted by this?” Abby scoffed, looking nervously around for unneeded witnesses to their encounter.

“Rest assured, I’m not here to comfort you in any way,” Therese mumbled, forcing her way in. She peeked inside the kitchen and was at first startled to see Harge there. “I forgot about him,” she whispered to Abby. “Hello,” she greeted Harge whose pupils dilated out of sheer terror. In his mind Therese was irreversibly linked to his visit to the doctor’s.

Therese climbed the stairs to the second floor, guessing she would find Carol’s boudoir there. She was right – it was located right above the dining area. Fearing her presence in the room might draw unwanted attention, she didn’t turn the ceiling lamp on. The smaller desk lamp would have to suffice.

Therese liked the traditionally furnished room with floral motifs and heavy curtains framing the tall but somewhat narrow windows. The huge bed with soft throw pillows caught her attention, and she jumped on it to test its springs. They seemed okay for what she had readily in mind, Therese mused. The thought of Abby fucking Carol on it wiped the grin off her face, though.

The spacious room was fragrant with the essence of Carol, she thought, lying on her back on the sumptuous mattress. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly, breathing the scent she liked to think belonged to Carol and Carol alone. Therese wondered what it would be like to be in bed with Carol, if it would be as pleasurable as she imagined it would be. The mere thought turned her on, and she had to fight the urge not to do anything improper on her own.

_The crystal angel…_ Therese had almost forgotten the actual reason she had come there in the first place. She took the figurine out of her jacket pocket and looked around. _Where should I put this? What would be an inconspicuous yet believable place for her to find it at?_ She couldn’t decide. Carol’s boudoir was loosely furnished and so spic-and-span, that everything, even the smallest things, seemed to stand out in equal measure. Carol wasn’t a person who would drop things randomly on the floor, and not pick them up instantly. Then she remembered the microscope. _Maybe if I place it on the carpet next to her bed?_ That way Carol could justify it having made no sound at all when accidentally toppled down. It was the best Therese came up with, and it had to be enough.

She left the angel next to the bed, but her curiosity wasn’t yet sated. Opening all the drawers and closets, Therese went over Carol’s wardrobe from underwear to nightgowns. While she was paying too much attention to the former category, she suddenly heard sounds from downstairs. Therese froze, for she hadn’t expected Carol to come back this early. _Didn’t she say she had a meeting after work?_    

“Yes, Abby, I know I said I’d be back later, but I just had to check one thing before my meeting,” she heard Carol say. Her footsteps were getting louder, which could only mean one thing. Carol was on her way upstairs.

“Carol!!!” Abby shouted unnecessarily loud. Her alarmed call was understandably meant for Therese. “I think Harge is making progress! I think he’s trying to speak!” Her tone was desperate, pleading.

“What on earth are you saying?” Carol laughed, clearly taken aback by what she deemed sheer nonsense. She was already on the second floor landing. Therese’s eyes darted around, looking for a place to hide. She contemplated crawling underneath Carol’s bed, but decided against it immediately. If she were to pick up the angel from the floor right next to it, she might take a peek under it as well.

“I’ll be right down,” Carol said. “I’m sure Harge won’t lose his regained faculties if I swing by my room first.” Therese knew she had less than thirty seconds to save herself.

Carol walked over to her room, and as she entered, she was surprised to find the lamp on her nightstand switched on. Confused, she looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The room appeared exactly the same as always. “Abby?” Carol called out. “Have you been in here today? The light’s on,” she said. She rummaged the drawers, scanned the tabletops, but couldn’t find her angel.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Abby shouted from downstairs. “I had to go up there to check if I’d left the… umm…” she glanced at Harge nervously, “…the handheld mixer I showed you last night. The one you liked and asked me to get for you.” Carol blushed noticeably but continued her search anyway.  

_It’s not here_. Carol had lost all hope when she was about to turn the night lamp off. Its halo hit the floor, and as she approached it, something seemed to sparkle half out of sight. _Rindy’s angel!_ Carol gasped out of delight and happiness, balancing the delicate crystal creature on her palm.     

When Carol had switched the light off and closed the door behind her, Therese came out of the closet. Having held her breath, she was nearly panting. Yet there was one more thing she had to do. Opening the underwear drawer one more time, she slid her hand underneath the panties and bras, and pulled out the rounded pink cylinder she remembered having seen there. It no longer made her smile.

The next day Therese threw it in the Hudson River.

* * *

A load had been taken of Carol’s shoulders, when she returned to the museum. She was running a bit late, but with good luck, her guest would be even more behind in her schedule. Genevieve Cantrell hardly ever made it in time, not even to the board meetings, but her tardiness was overlooked because of her generosity. _Rich people get away with everything_ , Carol scoffed, conveniently forgetting that she had once been very wealthy herself.

She was right. Genevieve breezed in half an hour after Carol, profusely apologizing for having been delayed at the last minute. She would, however, focus _all her attention_ to Carol now, she assured her.

“So what’s new?” Genevieve asked enthusiastically. “Everything running smoothly with The Louvre?” She browsed the documents Carol had waiting on the conference room table.

“It is – now, thanks to Richard Semco,” Carol said. “Without him, we could’ve ended up in deep trouble at the last minute.” She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh? How is that?” Genevieve inquired, examining the papers as if the answers were readily available for her right there.

“Richard has made considerable improvements to the security,” Carol acknowledged. “Even today he came up with an additional feature that will certainly please the French once they hear about it.” She gave Genevieve the memo she had kept to herself up till now. “These on the table are his first designs: the smart glass, the combination lock and the key, the room that seals itself…” Carol explained. “Now he has introduced a new, significant addition to the overall plan – the floor alarm.” The drawing in the new folder depicted a substantial safe zone around the display case.      

For a moment Carol thought she had registered a look of discontent on Genevieve’s flawless face. Soon enough the heiress melted into an adorable smile, though. “That is _wonderful_ news, do tell me all about it!” she exclaimed excitedly.

Thrown off by her first impression, Carol stammered with her words. “Umm… well… it’s quite simple, really… during the off hours, the floor will be rigged with a highly sensitive alarm system, rendering it impossible for anyone without proper authority to approach the necklace and the earrings.” She focused on her papers to regroup. “I’d say we have this in the bag.” To give even more weight to what she had just said, Carol pressed her palms on top of Richard’s designs. The emerald diamond ring coruscated on her left hand.

“Where did you get that?” Genevieve asked, unable to control her immediate reaction. “I mean, it’s such a gorgeous ring that I don’t think I have _ever_ seen anything quite like it…” She bounced back, but her first raw remark had already startled Carol.

“Umm… _this_ little thingy?” Carol fumbled. “It was just a gift,” she acquiesced to say. Genevieve, however, wasn’t content with her obvious understatement.

“One hell of a gift, if you ask me,” Genevieve quipped dryly. Her right foot had started to fidget under the chair, and she had to drive her nails into her thigh to get it to stop. “Someone special gave it to you?” She had to find out how her generous bestowal to Therese, one she absolutely hadn’t been obligated to make at all, had ended up on that dowdy woman’s finger.

“The love of my life gave it to me,” Carol lied as candidly as she could, expecting Genevieve to assume that it had been Harge who had splurged on it. To Carol’s surprise, her guest didn’t seem to take her announcement too well. _Or maybe Genevieve just wasn’t herself today?_ occurred to Carol suddenly. She had mentioned having been delayed – maybe it had had something to do with feeling a bit under the weather? _That must be it_. “I know it is an extravagant thing to have, but my wearing it has brought such joy for both us,” Carol concluded.

Carol had it right for the most part. Genevieve was not feeling well at all. What she didn’t know was that Lady Cantrell’s gaunt appearance had nothing to do with a bout of illness of any kind. Underneath her carefully controlled exterior, Genevieve was seething with anger.


	11. Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Smaragdus for a walk on the _dark side..._

His eyes bloodshot, Dannie was exhausted. The workload was getting to him. “It’s such a slow process, I’m not sure if I can get everything done in time.” Therese had suspected he would be saying something like that. “I may have to ask Madame to buy some synthetic stones as well … “ The mere thought rattled him, and Therese understood it more than well. Genevieve Cantrell had invested a great deal of money in the growth chambers and, as always, she expected them to yield a profit.

Had they more time on their hands, Dannie wouldn’t have to fret over the time-consuming procedure at all.  They could just sit by and let the crystals form at their own relaxed pace. Less than eight months away from the exhibition’s opening they were, however, anything but calm.  _ It takes longer for an emerald crystal to take shape than a baby to grow in a womb _ , Therese mused.  

“If we have no other choice, she’ll have to live with it,” Therese commented dryly. “It’s not your fault we were alerted to this so late in the game.” Dannie took a bite of a dried-up bagel he had abandoned on the table some hours earlier. He didn’t find it too appetizing but chewed on it anyway.  

The past month having flown by with relative ease, Therese had mainly focused on her job at the Met. During this time Lady Cantrell had mostly left her alone, which Therese had found very uncharacteristic of her. She was used to being summoned to Genevieve’s place, even to her mansion at times, for detailed updates of their progress as well as for sex. Therese was relieved by the current state of affairs, but somehow she couldn’t help but wonder if Genevieve’s reticence only signified a brief calm before an unexpected storm.  After all, she did know all about ‘Hurricane Genevieve’.

* * *

_ Seven years ago _

Therese had stayed up – not that she could have slept even if she had wanted to. When she heard ‘Karen’ and ‘Martha’ return, she took the letters she had read over and over again, and followed them to Karen’s room. Not bothering to knock, Therese nearly kicked the door in. She caught the women in tight embrace.

“What the hell…” Karen started only to be interrupted immediately.

“This …  and this … and this … ” Therese shouted out, flinging the letters one at a time at the woman she had so far unconditionally adored. “Karen, or is it Lena or Vivien or Eve or…” Her voice broke momentarily, but her fighting spirit soared. “ _ Who _ are you?” Therese interrogated, her eyes blazing of anger. “Who the  _ fuck _ are you, and why did you lie to me!?”  

What she had expected to happen afterwards, Therese hadn’t really thought through. Maybe she had assumed Karen would grow all pale and apologetic, the cover of her charade having been so deftly blown. Maybe Therese had wished for an explanation that would miraculously prove her wrong despite the evidence to the contrary. What actually happened shook her to her core. It not only proved her right, it served to enhance her fears.

Without flinching, Karen smacked Therese right across the face. It wasn’t just the force of her violent outburst but also the shock of surprise that dropped Therese. Martha gasped out of despair, as Therese’s knees buckled and she collapsed onto the floor.

“Don’t you ever,  _ ever again _ , poke your nose into my business.” Karen’s menacing voice pierced Therese like a whetted icicle. “If I find you messing around with my affairs one more time, I will first tear you up into tiny shreds, and then deposit every single one of them behind bars.” The tears brought on by the impact and the humiliation stung Therese’s eyes.

“Leave us,” Karen said to Martha who obeyed her without a question. When they were left alone, Karen blocked the door from Therese. “You must’ve thought yourself very clever, didn’t you?” she asked coldly, not expecting Therese to answer. “Fuck … ” Karen grabbed Therese’s arm and pulled her up. When Karen touched her cheek, the scarlet pattern her open hand had stamped on it, Therese winced in pain.

“Don’t be so melodramatic, darling,” Karen hissed into her ear. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Pinching her eyes shut, Therese held her breath. “You like being roughed up, don’t you, Therese?” The taunting words whirled around her like a swarm of wasps. “I think it’s nice – in bed … “ Karen added, seeking her eyes. “Getting all hot and bothered with those letters, weren’t you?” she kept at it. “Imagining me with them girls … “ Therese swallowed, focusing on keeping her false calm. “Why don’t I find out just  _ how _ hot and bothered … “ Karen’s hand roamed south, eager to prove her point.          

Everything about Therese was in a state of alarm, quivering, yet she couldn’t move a muscle. She wanted to run away, to leave this place for good, to never see Karen or Martha again, but no matter how much Therese pleaded with herself to do just that, the hook Karen had sunk in her gut only fastened tighter. The hatred and the disgust she had felt toward Karen and the truth she had found out turned inward that night. Succumbing to what she mistook as her lot in life, Therese let herself be reprogrammed, and with it, utterly transformed.  

* * *

When Therese went to work the next morning, she saw Carol talking to Genevieve in the museum lobby. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to see Lady Cantrell frequent the premises, but something about her behavior startled Therese. Genevieve seemed almost –  _ sugary _ . Noticing the ring once again on Carol’s finger, she suddenly realized that Genevieve must have seen it, too.

The look Lady Cantrell afforded Therese was distinctly cool for a fleeting second, before she took command of it and turned it into her customary smile. The blink of an eye hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it didn’t bode well. Genevieve was up to something, and if she didn’t want to have anything to do with Therese, it had to be Carol who was standing in the line of her fire. Nodding to Therese, Lady Cantrell was soon on her way.  

“What did she want?” Therese asked Carol as they were walking to the lab. She had a bad feeling something unpleasant was about to unfold.

“That’s just it,” Carol laughed. “I’m not really sure. She invited me to dinner at her house and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Carol looked surprised yet not completely dismayed by the proposal. “I’ve heard a lot about her mansion, and I’m curious to see it, but we’ve never been  _ close _ .”

_ Good God _ . Therese tried to smile but couldn’t do it convincingly. “A fancy banquet for donors and alike?” she mumbled her question.

“Actually –  _ no _ ,” Carol replied as if she had only now grasped what the invitation meant. “If I understood correctly, it’s going to be just the two of us.”

_ I bet _ . Therese drew a quick, harrowed breath.  _ Think, Therese, think _ . Her brain printed out several scenarios none of which struck her as anything less than disturbing. “And when is this dinner to take place?” she was bold enough to ask.

“On Saturday.” Carol’s smile was confused and somewhat shy. She was surprised by Therese’s eager questions about her dinner date.  _ Although it is not a date-date _ , she reminded herself.

Almost right after they had started their work, Therese excused herself to make a phone call. It couldn’t wait, she explained to Carol.  _ A personal matter _ .  Making sure no one could eavesdrop on her subsequent conversation, Therese dialed Abby’s number.

“What’s going on with Genevieve?” she questioned Abby, neglecting to indulge in cordialities. “Why is she having dinner with Carol?” She heard Abby breathing, guessing she was considering what to say, if anything at all.

“I think Gen wants to seal the deal,” Abby revealed reluctantly. Her tone was weary.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Therese asked impatiently. Sometimes she hated to be right.

“She wants to make sure there won’t be any surprises, even if something unexpected happens right before the finishing line.” Abby sounded distressed, which Therese found extraordinary. So far Abby had been Gen’s perfect warrior.

“Blackmail?” Therese guessed. She herself had ‘sealed many deals’ for Genevieve over the years. Most of them had involved illegal substances and a camera.

“Probably,” Abby sighed. “Karl the Bull told me he’s received an order to stand by should she need any help on Saturday evening.”

Karl the Bull meant only one thing, which Therese was very familiar with.  _ Muscle _ . If Therese had ever needed a pair of strong arms to drag a listless body from one place to another, Karl had been her man. He had come to her rescue many times, even in Dallas.          

Therese finished the call, troubled beyond belief. She would have to intervene, to save Carol from whatever peril was threatening her. Genevieve was trying to get to  _ her _ through Carol. That was more than obvious. The old saying ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ found its embodiment in Lady Cantrell, and this time her wrath must have been ignited by the emerald ring on Carol’s finger. Therese had to be cunning to undo her devious plan. She didn’t want to repeat the mistake she had made years ago.

* * *

_ Five years ago _

A week after her failed attempt to escape, Therese became aware of a distinct change in Dannie’s behavior. They hadn’t seen each other for days, which Therese had taken as a sign of him having been exceptionally busy with his work. Now he seemed restless and moody, pacing Therese’s room whenever he popped in to see her.

“I can fucking do it … “ Dannie proclaimed, wiping his nose repeatedly. “I figured it out,” he added enthusiastically. His fluttering was unnerving to say the least.

“You can do what?” Therese asked. Something was off, she thought. His forehead was sweaty, and he appeared driven in a way Therese had never seen before.

“Fucking emeralds and rubies and diamonds, just like that,” he extolled. “We got it all wrong, but I figured it out!” His pupils dilated, Dannie stared at Therese a mad grin on his lips.

“Let’s grab some lunch, okay?” Therese suggested, touching his arm gently. She wanted to get him out of the house, out of this unhealthy conversation.

“I don’t want any food.” Dannie brushed her hand off a bit too forcefully. “I want you to get this!” he insisted. “Wait … “ He left the room in a hurry, but Therese knew he would be back in a few minutes. Why he kept doing that, she didn’t know.

“Dannie … “ She attempted to call him back but to no avail. Someone else was standing in the doorway - Genevieve.

“How do you like your friend now?” she asked Therese. “A veritable genius, isn’t he?” Genevieve leaned against the door frame. 

“What the fuck have you done?” Therese asked, her concern over Dannie’s well-being consuming her.

“Wrong question.” Genevieve’s face was a cold, icy mask of contempt. “What have  _ you _ done would be more accurate.” Slowly she lit a cigarette and enjoyed her first, long drag of tar and nicotine. Therese could almost hear how the tip of it rustled as it burned the paper away. “You know who end up at Edgecombe?” Genevieve asked her. Therese had no idea. “Druggies, crack heads … like good ole Dannie boy who just couldn’t get enough of that stuff.”  

Therese and Dannie had never talked about why he had ended up at Edgecombe. Neither of them had volunteered any information on their past transgressions, hoping they could start anew at least with one another.

“So, Therese,” Genevieve spoke, guessing she had made her point. “Is this what you want..?” she asked her sharply. “Or would you like to be the good girl I know you can be?”   

Dannie breezed in, interrupting the strained exchange. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he giggled. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Mumbling incoherently, he dried his shaky palms on his pants.

Yet he wasn’t, and it shrank Therese’s heart, for she needed him with her. Defeated, she mouthed her silent submission.

“Speak up.” Genevieve folded her arms across her chest. She was teaching her ward a lesson, and she wanted it to sink in for good.

“I’m a good girl.”

Genevieve looked at Therese, nodding at her reply almost imperceptibly. She asked Dannie to follow her, and it took several days before Therese saw him again.

* * *

_ If she so much as harms a hair on her head, I will kill her _ . The conviction had formed in Therese’s mind slowly but surely. She couldn’t quite understand what it was that Carol moved in her so much, but she clung to it with all her might as if her life depended on it. Therese would accomplish what Genevieve expected her to deliver, but she would not stand idly by when Carol was being threatened.

Therese would have to be extremely careful in order not to put either Carol’s or Dannie’s life in danger. She found herself expendable, though she had proven essential to Genevieve’s plans. For all these years she had exorcised her demons in close contact with the devil herself, Therese mused. Still there seemed to be a surplus of them, those potent little fuckers that infiltrated her mind as doubts, put-downs and ridicule.  _ If I can help her out, maybe a small part of me can be purged as well _ .     

Come Saturday morning, her plan was finalized. She left her place very early to visit the green market nearby Genevieve’s palatial home. Moseying from booth to booth, her eyes fixed on the person she was looking for.  _ Finally _ .

“Hello … “ Speaking to a young woman selecting shoots of asparagus, Therese’s smile was absolutely spectacular. “I thought I’d lost you, Anna,” she told the flustered lady.

“Who’s Anna?“ The stranger kept looking over her shoulders, wondering if the lovely brunette seeking her company was in fact talking to someone else. “I’m Michelle.”

Her brow askew, Therese managed to look confused. “No, it can’t be … “ she mumbled, almost pleading. “I’ve been coming here for months now.”  Her green eyes suddenly moist, she seemed inconsolable.

“What did Anna do?” Michelle asked kindly. “What did she do to make you so sad?” Therese’s quiet despair had affected her already.

“I’d rather not talk about it … “ Therese sighed, averting her teary eyes. “I’m so sorry for disturbing you …  _ Michelle _ … “ Suddenly she was looking at her again. The copper threads connecting, the deep green of her gaze jolted the object of her attention.

“Wait … “ Michelle said, sensing Therese was about to take her leave. “It’s terribly early, and I’d  _ hate _ to think you’re here for  _ nothing _ .” Therese waited patiently to hear the rest. “Why don’t I make you some breakfast? I’m a cook, and I work for this fancy Lady … “ Michelle hesitated briefly. “Her place is nearby.”        

_ Gotcha _ . Therese arranged a grateful smile on her face. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

* * *

“How about that breakfast?” Michelle asked, reaching for her white silk shirt that lay rumpled on the floor like a dead swan. “I should really get cracking because the lady of the house will be entertaining tonight … ” She picked up her pants and pulled them on.

Therese lay in bed, dulled by the uninspired encounter. “A big deal, huh?” she inquired.

“Sounds like a seduction, if you ask me,” Michelle confided to her. “A five-course-meal, the works …  she aims to kill.”  She winked at Therese who returned her delight somewhat perfunctorily.

“Maybe I can help you out?” she offered, feigning sincerity. Michelle looked positively surprised.

“That would be fantastic,” Michelle smiled. “I’ve certainly got my work cut out for myself.”

_ And so do I _ . Therese got up to follow Genevieve’s cook to the kitchen. Phase one was about to begin.

“Have you been given detailed instructions on how to serve the food?” Therese asked when Michelle was trimming the vegetables some time later.

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary…” she replied. “The only thing Lady Cantrell wants to do on her own is the individual drinks,” Michelle elaborated. “And she wants me out the minute the dessert’s been served.” She let out a hearty laugh. “Another indicator that she intends to make a serious move … “

Therese wasn’t laughing. She was getting an idea how the evening would unfold, Genevieve most likely offering Carol a cocktail spiked with a roofie. “Is she home? Your employer?” she asked Michelle.

“No, she’s running some last minute errands,” she said. “Lady Cantrell won’t be back before five.”

_ Excellent _ . “May I use the bathroom?” Therese asked. Permission granted, she sneaked out to the spacious hall and all the way upstairs.

What Therese found in one of the guest bedrooms didn’t surprise her at all. The extra boudoir had been turned into a photo studio with a speedlight soft box and a reflector. An expensive pro digital camera fastened on a tripod stood in front of the king-sized bed. The master bedroom she had at times shared with Genevieve had none of the photographic paraphernalia, but it was adorned with rose petals and candles.  _ Plan A relied on Genevieve’s charms, plan B on drugs _ , Therese deduced. She would make damn sure neither room was used tonight.

Therese opened a window in one of the guest rooms and slid out onto the ledge to pull in a canvas bag she had hidden between the magnolia bushes. A wire she had stashed in her pocket fished out the rope she had tied around the handle of the heavy bag. Lifting it to safety took more time than she had estimated.

“What’s keeping you so long?” Michelle hollered from the kitchen. She was getting impatient.

“I’ll be right there!” Therese promised, replacing every single bottle in Genevieve’s liquor cabinet with the ones she had brought along. The brands she hadn’t thought of, she removed from the boozy equation altogether.

“You should put a bottle of champagne on ice for them,” Therese suggested to Michelle once she had returned to the kitchen. “It would be a nice touch, don’t you think?” She stroked the cook’s derriere as if to demonstrate one.

“What a splendid idea!” Michelle prepared an icy bath for a very expensive bottle of bubbly and left it on the dining room table. Seeing it, Therese let out a sigh of relief. The first drink of the evening would be poured out of a secured bottle.

* * *

Carol arrived at 7 sharp. She was slightly nervous, not knowing what to expect. She had had trouble deciding what to wear, and Abby’s advice hadn’t exactly helped. “I’d go with the grey turtleneck and tweed slacks,” she had suggested. Carol had rolled her eyes at such an outrageous opinion. Even if she wasn’t going out on a romantic date, she wouldn’t visit Lady Cantrell looking - well,  _ frigid _ . She had thought of Therese, how different it would have felt like to dress up for her.

“Carol, my darling,” Genevieve exalted, greeting her with open arms. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

_ Humble my ass _ . Even the walls seemed to be dripping with dough, not to mention the dome-like ceiling in the hall, Carol thought. She tried to make out the tiny figures cavorting on its delicate murals. They resembled naughty cherubs chasing each other with red-hot pokers. _ Umm… interesting _ .

“Thank you so much for having me, dearest Genevieve,” Carol returned the sentiment. “What a lovely home you have.” Having perused the atrium, she followed her hostess to the dining room.

“Can I offer you a drink? Some champagne to kick off our evening?” Genevieve asked Carol, turning the chunky bottle on ice. The microscopic transmitters scattered around the room picked up the slightest of sounds, Therese mused contentedly. She was dicing carrots while paying as little attention as possible to Michelle’s constant blabbering. She pushed the earplug deeper into her ear cavity.

Catching the clinking of flutes, Therese was relatively at ease. It wouldn’t make any sense for Genevieve to lace Carol’s drink right now. The dinner needed to be served first. Therese listened to Carol praising Michelle’s  _ crème d’asperges _ while pushing Michelle against the sink. The volume of the women’s conversation had dropped, and Therese needed the cook to shut up to understand what they were saying. Moaning was less noisy than Michelle’s constant, harebrained chatter, she noted.                    

_ Saumon en croûte d'épices _ seemed to be a hit as well, though Therese had found the casing a bit soggy. She wasn’t going to tell Michelle that, she mused, cutting the cute cook’s oxygen supply with her voracious mouth. Therese was irritated to hear Carol go on and on about the food; it was just some crappy fish she was shoving into her mouth after all.

When Carol oohed and aahed over the  _ magret de canard aux fleurs d'hibiscus et fruit de la passion,  _ Therese might have stormed into the dining room and drugged her herself, had it not been for her pants dropped down to her ankles. At least now she could eavesdrop on them without any auditory distraction.

Therese started getting jittery after _le_ _plateau des fromages,_ since it spelled the beginning of the end of the sumptuous meal. Munching on a piece of Brie, her interest in groping fair Michelle was waning fast. Besides, Michelle was supposed to leave after the _Pavlova aux fraises et framboises_ had found its way to the dining room table. Therese, on the other hand, needed to stay. This moment was critical, for the last drinks might very well prove hazardous to Carol’s virtue and reputation.

“I’m done, let’s go,” Michelle said, pleased with herself. “Want to come to my place?” she suggested hopefully.

“As tempting as you make it sound, I’m afraid I can’t … “ Therese mumbled. “I’m still not over … “  _ What the fuck was her name again?   _ “… Anna.” Feigning anguish, she let out a long, mournful sigh.

“Right.” Michelle untied her apron and flung it over a bar stool. She grabbed her coat and bag and ushered Therese out through the back door. When she locked the door and turned around to say a few choice words to her fickle companion, Therese had fled the scene.

Or, rather, she had run around the mansion and climbed up to a ledge. She let herself in through the window she had left open for her re-entry. Karl the Bull was passed out in his car outside Genevieve’s house. Therese had slipped a mickey in his Diet Pepsi when he had been taking a leak behind the bushes.         

The noises downstairs told Therese both women were still very much conscious. “ … if I’ve given you any impression that … “ Carol’s voice hovered in and out of her reach. “ … you are very attractive wo … “ Again, the static wreaked havoc to the connection. “ … am married, you know that.” Therese descended the stairs silently like a clever mouse. She was holding her breath, trying to capture every unimaginative brush-off Carol could think of.

Even though Therese was deliriously happy to hear Carol fending off Genevieve’s advances, she was fearful for what would happen next. “Oh, I do apologize for misreading the signs,” she heard Genevieve speak. “How very embarrassing … “ Carol hastened to convince her hostess that no damage had been done, and they should put it behind them right away.

“You’re so considerate, darling,” Genevieve said, feigning bashful gratitude. “Why don’t we drink to that, what’ll you say?” The tone of her voice left little room for anything else except acceptance.  

Hiding right behind the parlor doors, Therese heard Genevieve stirring two vodka martinis in a cocktail shaker. She seemed oddly quiet while Carol filled the thickened air of discontent with nervous small talk. Therese sent a text message to Dannie demanding him to drive the car in front of Genevieve’s house in half an hour.

“Cin cin, darling,” Genevieve toasted, clinking her glass with Carol’s. A chair scraped against the parquet, which Therese assumed indicated Genevieve’s sitting down next to Carol. According to the timer on Therese cell phone, they kept on talking idly for about ten more minutes. At fifteen both Carol and Genevieve were slurring their words, which made them squirm uncomfortably in their seats. Five more minutes passed …  _ thump! _ And after one more ...  _ thump!  _ The sound of breaking glass followed the weird, muffled commotion.

Therese peaked in to see what had happened.  _ Yes _ . Both women slouched over the table, their faces nestling on mounds of creamy meringue. Therese leapt in and helped both women sit upright while checking their vitals. Both Genevieve and Carol were out like a light but otherwise okay. Dannie signalled his arrival. Therese ran to the door and waved for him to come in.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked Therese apprehensively, his eyes darting nervously around. Dannie had never been to Lady Cantrell’s mansion and he sure as hell didn’t want to be there now either. What greeted him in the dining room really freaked him out.

“WHAT THE FUCK, THERESE?” he shouted out. “HAVE YOU KILLED THEM?? YOUR BOSS AND OUR BOSS???” Dannie’s legs were trembling, and he had to seek support from the back of the chair Carol was listlessly leaning against. “YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULDN’T PULL THIS KIND OF SHIT ANYMORE!” Hyperventilating, he was reeling with panic.

“Keep your voice down,” Therese advised him. “They’re not dead. They’re just out. I spiked every single drop of liquor in this place.” She was quite proud of her accomplishment. Since she hadn’t been able to stop Genevieve, Therese had made sure she herself was rendered just as helpless as Carol. “Now help me move Madame onto the couch … “

Dannie was reluctant to obey Therese, but he finally did it. They dragged Lady Cantrell’s limp body onto the plush, floral-patterned couch. The whipped cream adorning her face with some juicy bits sticking out from her forehead, Genevieve appeared to be having a funky facial. After careful consideration, Therese decided to wipe the dessert’s remnants away.

She removed the spiked booze and returned the original bottles back to their place. A folded, handwritten sheet of paper stuck out from her bag, and she left it on the table. “What is that?” Dannie gasped, still in shock.

“An explanation and an apology of sorts,” Therese explained. “Now let’s get Mrs. Aird into the car.” Carrying a flaccid body was no picnic, and taking it out of the house without anyone noticing wasn’t simple either. Somehow they managed to slide her onto the backseat.

Therese spent five more minutes gathering her things inside the house before joining her nervous wreck of an accomplice. “Step on it, we need to get her to Brooklyn asap.” Therese kept glancing at Carol all the way, hoping the roofie concoction wouldn’t prove excessive for her. Thanks to Genevieve’s calculating contribution, Carol had been slipped a double amount tonight.  _ I will stay with you all through the night _ , Therese promised to the knocked-out blonde on the backseat.  _ Nothing bad will happen to you _ . 


	12. Chemistry

Carol’s sleep was heavy, chemical. The sounds around her had a muffled, dull quality to them, and she wondered if any of them were real at all. At times they seemed to gain a visual form, a sequence of soft shadows moving over her like a billowing dark cloth blocking her blind vision. _My eyelids are made of clay_ , Carol fumbled, only drifting farther when she sought to touch what might have been solid. _Wet, slablike clay_.

The words flitted and fluttered, not making sense at all. “You … easy … alright … here … sweetheart … “ Words echoing, bouncing not off the walls but off the corridors of her mind, Carol imagined her body a numb, illiterate island disintegrating into an eroding sea of inane utterances and odd phrases. None of what she sensed felt threatening though, and Carol took comfort in it. A scent she almost recognized lingered near, gently enveloping her in its dusky allure.   

When Carol finally woke up, the voices and visions were gone, and she would have felt terribly alone, had it not been for Abby who was sitting next to her bed. Abby looked worried, and Carol wondered how long she must have waited for her to open her eyes.

“Hey you … ” Abby spoke, smiling at Carol. “Quite a night you had. I hope you slept well.”

Suddenly nauseous, a sharp twinge of pain splitting her head, Carol averted her eyes from the runaway rays of the sun hitting her irises. “What happened … “ was all she could mumble in return. After all, she had no recollection of the events of the night before. Abby shifted in her chair, a whiff of her eau de toilette taking a quick turn in Carol’s nostrils. _It wasn’t Abby_.

“The Lyft driver who brought you in last night said he’s rarely seen anyone as drunk as you were,” Abby chuckled, turning serious the next moment. “Although it’s no laughing matter, getting so out of control.” Shaking her head, Abby handed Carol a glass of water she had waiting on the nightstand.

“Was someone here last night?” Carol asked after a while.

“What on earth?” Abby laughed incredulously. “Did you mean to bring some one night stand home with you or why do you ask?” Her manner was flippant, but the words hid a distinct ... reproach?     

“Of course not,” Carol denied, blushing involuntarily. “I just thought … I got this impression that … well, it doesn’t matter.” Thankful for the Saturday morning, she abandoned the idea of getting up altogether.

“I thought you were meeting one of the museum heads, not planning to drink yourself into oblivion.” Abby’s tone wasn’t all that amused.

“I was, and I don’t think I drank that much,” Carol muttered. “I mean we had an aperitif and then wine with the meal … the rest is a blur though … “ She appeared confused, even more so than just a moment before.

“Seems like your companion shares your feelings,” Abby commented. “Lady Cantrell called an hour ago and apologised profusely for her behaviour last night.”

Carol glanced sharply at Abby. “What did she say?” she inquired immediately.

“Oh, she just wanted to make sure that everything was okay with you,” Abby volunteered. “She also said that she shouldn’t have been pouring the wine quite so abundantly - not to mention the cocktails - and that she was embarrassed and ashamed for having passed out the way she had.”

Abby’s words calmed Carol down considerably. “At least I had enough sense left to call the car service, huh?” she acknowledged with distinct relief.

“Hmm … “ Abby lifted her eyebrows to let Carol know it was hardly an accomplishment to revel in. “Lady Cantrell did say one more thing.” Abby paused to let Carol focus on what she was about to say. “She wishes you’ll never mention a single word about last night. I guess she’s mortified.”

Carol felt a warm glow spread over her cheeks. Their behaviour had been spectacularly stupid for sure. “I understand,” she mumbled. “I won’t. I promise.”           

The matter seemed dealt with, neither one of them saying another word about it. At times Carol thought Abby was watching her, but when she turned her gaze to see if that was in fact the case, Abby’s attention was always elsewhere. _I must be imagining things_.   

* * *

_Dallas, two years ago_

 

“I must have passed out,” Kathleen Morra said, opening her eyes. The girl was still there, just as she had imagined her. This beautiful, dark-haired girl who knew everything about jewels and precious stones. How on earth she had gotten so lucky as to meet her in the first place, she had no idea.

“Are you okay?” The girl looked genuinely concerned. She touched Kathleen’s arm gently. The weight of her palm was almost nonexistent but nevertheless arousing - something Kathleen hadn’t experienced in decades.

“Patricia … “ Kathleen’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Tell me - did I make a fool of myself last night?” She wanted to ask something else but dared not to.

The girl moved closer, her head soon appearing right above hers on the pillow. “No … but we did kiss.” Her eyes seemed to grow larger as her face descended on the older woman’s nervous features. “Like this.” The kiss was a lingering, languid one, and quite enough to shoot sharp stars through Kathleen’s frail frame. The young woman moved on top of her, not exactly smiling. Hers was an undecipherable expression, one so inscrutable it excited Kathleen Morra tremendously. Closing her eyes once more, she welcomed the caresses despite all the doubts she should have listened to.

 

_Three hours later_

 

“You home, Dannie?” Therese threw her jacket over the back of a chair. She was tired and, worse than that, thoroughly depressed.

“Why, isn’t it the fair ‘Patricia’...” Dannie emerged from the bathroom, sporting his trademark grin. He seemed to be in a great mood.

“Cut the crap, D,” Therese growled, leaning heavily against the kitchen sink. She supported herself so vigorously on her unbent elbows, she envisioned her arms snapping in half like a pair of dried up twigs. The tea pot was where she had left it in the morning, but she decided not to use it this time. “Is there anything to drink around here? Anything else except what comes out of leaves soaked in boiled water?” Her fingers felt numb.

“There’s some vodka in the freezer, if that’s what you want.” Dannie sounded surprised.

Therese took out a frosty bottle and poured some of it to a glass. The chilled, hard liquor flowed out cumbersomely, filling one third of the tumbler. Sighing, Therese sat in the chair and stared ahead with unseeing eyes. Vodka stung her mouth, and she didn’t particularly care for its taste. Then again, it wasn’t pleasure she sought in it.

“It’s better than drinking bleach,” Genevieve had said, when she had offered Therese her first shot of vodka. It had been a very typical thing for her to say, Therese had thought. Seeing how desperate Therese had become after the first few gigs they had pulled together, Genevieve had resorted to medicate her the only way she could think of - with booze. It had served to make her more malleable, even docile at times. But what had started out as a form of seeking temporary relief had inevitably turned into a nasty habit. And what is nasty breeds nasty.    

Kathleen Morra was a lovely lady, and Therese had no wish to hurt her. Genevieve, however, found Ms. Morra’s jewelry collection even lovelier, and that was what counted in the end. Kathleen had shown ‘Patricia’ her most famous piece of jewelry, the ruby, sapphire, emerald, citrine and diamond flamingo clip that had at one time belonged to the Duchess of Windsor, Wallis Simpson. Mounted by Cartier, the clip’s value was estimated somewhere between 1-1.5 million dollars. Therese thought of it as unnecessarily gaudy, but she kept her opinion to herself. Kathleen adored her bling bird, and so did Genevieve. To Therese, it was the latter appreciation that dictated her actions.   

“Why are you with me?” Kathleen had asked Therese when they had ceased their love making. “You are so young and you have your entire future ahead of you. I am hopelessly stuck in the past and rightfully so; the past is where I belong.”  

Therese had sat up to put her clothes back on. Her stockings lay on the floor as if two snakes had just shed their skins on the carpet. “You seem to think that youth always assumes to live forever,” she had replied. “Well, I don’t. I live for now.”

Kathleen’s hand had caressed Therese’s arm pensively. “What an odd thing for a young person to say.”   

Therese had dared to look back at her. “Life has a funny way of aging us prematurely.”  

* * *

“Madame … “ The voice was meek but it did wake Genevieve Cantrell up. “I’m very sorry, Madame, but I was supposed to clean up the house the first thing this morning … “ The young woman with a vacuum cleaner looked scared out of her wits.

“Umm … what time is it?” Lady Cantrell slurred her words with great difficulty. Her head felt fragile and heavy at the same time, and her brains appeared to reel from one side to the other every move she attempted.

“10 am, Madame.” The simple acknowledgment of time came out of the young woman’s mouth like a fearful confession.

Genevieve forced herself into a sitting position on the couch. The taste in her mouth was overly sweet, yet it mingled with something acidic and not at all pleasing. One look at the messy dinner table revealed the source of her sugary flavor: the prodigious Pavlova from last night. The remnants of the festive dessert resembled roadkill.

Genevieve sent the confused girl away, telling her to come back a few hours later. She was too puzzled to be her usual edgy self, but the wind was already changing its direction. Or it would have, had it not been for the letter she found on the chair Carol had sit in. It had been written in haste, most likely late last night.

   

> _Dearest Genevieve,_
> 
> _Someone once said that there are no accidents, but I think our drinking way too much was definitely one. However, I’m grateful we became intoxicated sooner rather than later. I beg for your forgiveness for my behavior tonight, although no explanation I offer is satisfactory. I’m middle-aged, and I guess I’m not only seeking resolutions, I’m actively hunting them down._

 

Lady Cantrell raised her eyes from the page, not understanding a single word.

   

> _I don’t blame you for not wanting to have anything to do with the mess I truly am. You were the perfect hostess, yet I foolishly attempted to take more than what your heartfelt generosity implied. I crossed the line, and I’m relieved you took pity on me in my hour of desperation._
> 
>   _I may carry a torch for you, but please believe me that I do understand why you chose to keep me at arm’s length. I have much to do, as you kindly pointed out. I have my ailing husband who depends on my continued devotion, and I even have a companion, a competent nurse I have grown very fond of. She deserves my genuine affection, too._
> 
> _Please don’t be angry at me. I will try to keep up with the plain truth and nothing but from now on and tell it like it is. It’s just so tempting to be dishonest at times - like with this ring I happened to find on the floor of one of the exhibition rooms. If I have led you to be believe anything else, I am so sorry._
> 
> _Oh, I just hope we can put all this behind us and hopefully never again return to my shameful stupidity._
> 
> _You, dear Genevieve, are such a class act and way out of my league. I feel privileged just to know you._
> 
> _Sorry for rambling. I’m drunk. LOL_
> 
>  
> 
> _Love, Carol_

 

Genevieve folded the sheet of paper in half. She thought it strange how she could barely remember anything at all from the previous night, yet something in Carol’s letter did ring true. _She must have been consumed by a deep inner conflict, writing something like this in the first place_ . _A stream of consciousness, for sure - of drunken consciousness._  

Her own plans had fallen through, Genevieve admitted, grazing her lips with the sharp edge of the paper. She wasn’t used to not seeing her schemes in full fruition, but this time felt slightly different. Genevieve was mad at Therese for not taking better care of the gift she had given her, but she couldn’t possibly fault Carol for hanging onto her find.

That woman had a better taste than she had expected - and not only in terms of jewelry either, Genevieve mused smugly. Right now she had Carol right where she wanted her: focusing on the loser husband while firmly secured in the arms of the woman she, Genevieve Cantrell, had pushed into her life. _And Therese Belivet was obviously a non-issue in Carol Aird’s life_ , she gloated. _Therese was so full of herself, that ungrateful little bitch she had singlehandedly saved from behind the bars_.  

As far as Genevieve could tell, last night was beginning to look like a home run in terms of what she hoped to achieve. Maybe after all this was over she could even throw poor Carol a bone? Then again women who threw themselves at her rarely held her interest for long. _Oh well, we’ll see ..._

* * *

Therese really didn’t have time for this now, yet she knew she had to help Dannie back on his feet somehow. “C’mon, D, snap out of it. Everything’s good, you’re home free. _We_ are home free.”

Curled up in a fetal position, Dannie rocked his shivering body back and forth. “How can you say that?!? We left Madame unconscious on the couch and I’m sure Mrs Aird isn’t faring much better … ” His face was chalky white, and his eyes darted nervously around the room as if afraid someone or something might be breaking through the walls any minute.

“Dannie, you are my best friend, and I’m not lying to you,” Therese started, going out of her way to maintain a calm composure. “Both of them will wake up feeling okay about themselves. It’s about saving face after all.” She took Dannie’s hand and squeezed it with all the warmth she could muster up. It wasn’t much, but for Dannie it did the trick.

“Are you sure? What was in the letter you left at Madame’s?” he inquired.

“A little ego boost.” Therese explained to Dannie, and handed over a notebook she had on the kitchen counter. The book had a loose paper attached to it.

“What’s this?” Dannie asked, examining the elegant handwriting on the additional sheet.

“A couple of weeks ago I asked Carol to write down a few details on the upcoming exhibition which I, for some reason, needed to have right away … what’ll you know - her laptop wasn’t working and she had to do it manually.” Therese had a sly expression on her face.

Dannie opened the notebook to find several pages of Carol’s handwriting. “When did you get her to write all this?” he asked, having browsed the first ten pages of the similar, neat print.

“I didn’t.”  Smiling, Therese winked at Dannie who felt infinitely better right away.   


	13. Clipped

_Dallas, two years ago_

“Excellent photos, Therese,” Genevieve complimented her, examining the blown-up pictures of Kathleen Morra’s flamingo clip on the screen of her laptop. “You can see the tiniest details in all of these.” Lady Cantrell had arrived at Dallas only two hours prior, but she wasn’t one to waste a single minute, be it business or sex – or both.    

“That was the point, wasn’t it?” Therese poured herself a drink from an open bottle of vodka that stood next to the champagne cooler. She ignored the flute of bubbly Genevieve had put for her on the nightstand. Sitting on the bed her back against the headboard, Therese pulled the covers up above her naked breasts.     

“How long do you think it’ll take you to wrap things up?” Genevieve neglected to pay attention to Therese’s irritated reply. “Dannie should be done pretty soon when he gets hold of these. He’s got the preliminary work ready. It’s all just fine tuning from now on.”

The vodka was almost warm, but Therese swallowed her mouthful anyway. “I’ll do the swap as soon as I have the replica, so maybe a week or so.” She had been entertaining Kathleen for several weeks now, and she was anxious to get the job finished. There was something about the older woman that kept jamming her radar as far as being an icy cold professional was concerned. Therese had started to enjoy Kathleen’s company, which had nothing to do with sex but everything to do with finding her a caring and a nurturing human being.

“Maybe we could make a trip together,” Kathleen had said a couple of weeks earlier. “I’d love to take you to Europe, to give you the old-fashioned Grand Tour.” Noticing the curious gleam in her young companion’s eyes, she had gladly elaborated on her charming idea. “The young English elite used to spend up till four years traveling around the continent, learning about different cultures through first-hand experience.” She had glanced at Therese, hoping she would find her still intrigued by her proposition. “We could stay abroad for a year or two, if you’re up to it … “ Kathleen had suggested cautiously. “I’m sure I still have a few good ones left in me.”  

 _Two years in Europe_. The thought had appealed to Therese. To see Paris, Rome, Naples and Florence was one thing, but to get away from Genevieve was definitely an added bonus. Therese had allowed herself to daydream about crossing the English Channel from Dover to Calais the old-fashioned way. _Paris with someone who actually cares for me_.

The exotic taste of Kathleen’s descriptions of Herculaneum and Pompeii had lasted all the way back home to Dannie. Seeing him busy at work with the replica had promptly deflated Therese’s dreams. _I am nothing. I don’t even have my passport. Mine is the reverse Midas touch_.   

“A week I can live with,” Genevieve accepted. “But don’t get sloppy with this one. I hear she’s a smart lady who rarely leaves her valuables unattended.”

Therese frowned at her remark. “I’m never sloppy. When have I ever let you down?” To get a word of encouragement or appreciation from Genevieve was like drawing blood from a stone. _Stone, yes_.    

* * *

Carol returned to work the following Monday. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but the real reason for her unease surprised even herself. Carol wasn’t nervous about bumping into Lady Cantrell. She was antsy because of Therese. Having told her about the dinner, Therese was bound to ask her if the evening had been a success. What would she tell her? A part of Carol wanted to be excruciatingly honest with Therese, and it confused her. “I got exceedingly drunk with Lady Cantrell and can’t remember much of anything,” Carol imagined confiding to Therese. She couldn’t say something like that, yet she wanted to. _Why do I want to level with her? What does any of it has to do with Therese?_     

“Mrs. Aird!” A familiar voice stopped Carol right before she was stepping inside the elevator taking her up to the administrative floor. Richard Semco strode across the hall, a smug smile lighting up his broad features. “May I escort you to your office? I have something for you.” He halted and waited for a permission to join her in the steel cubicle.

“Of course, Richard,” Carol replied, keeping the steel doors from sliding shut before he got in. She didn’t find it necessary to pry what the nature of his business was, but she did notice him carrying a small paper bag with him.

Once they were securely inside Carol’s office, Richard set the bag on the conference table and reached in to take out a small cardboard box. He opened it and raised his find up in the air. What looked like a small silver key dangled delicately in a thin chain. It sparkled faintly against the security chief’s chubby palm.

“This is the key I told you about.” Richard Semco looked very pleased. “It’s time you start wearing it, Mrs. Aird. Let me help you put it on.” Without further warning, he walked behind Carol and fastened the chain around her slender neck. “It’s activated. Any attempt to remove it will set off the main alarm from now on.”

Carol was overwhelmed by his straightforwardness. “You could have given me the heads up before setting to do what you just did.” She didn’t sound too happy about it.

“Am I interrupting something?” Therese was standing in the doorway. The scene that greeted her inside Carol’s office didn’t exactly appeal to her. Richard was lingering far too close to her boss.

“No … please, come in,” Carol stammered. “Richard was just explaining how this extraordinary … umm … pendant works.” For some inexplicable reason, Richard Semco felt the need to straighten Carol’s collar before he took a step back. Therese, on the other hand, felt the need to wring his neck.   

“What’s so special about it?” Therese mumbled her question. She kept glaring at Richard whose face was turning as red as a tomato.

“It’s the key to the display case where the centerpiece is going to be at,” Carol explained in her most carefree manner.

Therese approached Carol, and when she was quite close to her, she picked the key gently up. The contact the tips of her fingers made with the exposed skin startled Carol. The gesture was both natural and unexpected, signifying a closeness they had yet to share.

“I’ve seen places keys have been hidden at, but none as lovely as this one,” Therese murmured, admiring the smooth décolleté instead of the small silver object. Her remark might not have been meant to anyone’s ears, and maybe she hadn’t even thought of saying it out loud, but Carol was close enough to register the compliment. Not knowing whether she should acknowledge what she had heard or not, Carol acquiesced to glance at Therese. Her curiosity being sated with an earnest look back, Carol blushed up to her ears.

Richard’s nervous coughing caught Therese’s attention first. She backed off, reluctant to let the key fall on its human cushion. ”Well … I think my job here is done,” Richard said. What he had just witnessed was evidently giving him a particularly hard time.

”Thank you, Richard.” Carol bounced back, her face assuming its normal color. Only when the security chief had all too willingly exited her office, did she dare to turn to Therese again. ”Was there something you wanted … to discuss with me?” Her arms akimbo, Carol’s stance was challenging.

”Yes … ” Therese started, surprised by Carol’s sudden gutsiness. Instead of a woman flustered by recent lapses in her short-term memory, she was now meeting a feisty one. Carol wasn’t as fragile as she had at first thought her to be; in fact, she didn’t seem weak at all. A bit clueless, maybe, and unaccustomed to the ways of the underworld, but all in all she cut an impressive figure in her dignified defiance to dwell on confusion. Or at least so it seemed to Therese who at the moment became more and more interested in the other fine figure Mrs Aird cut – the one she had had a distinct pleasure of gawking at at the night of Carol’s altered state.

”Quit staring at her boobs!” Abby had hissed at Therese while they had been busy undressing unconscious Carol in her bedroom in Brooklyn. Therese had found Abby’s reproach quite unnecessary, and it had ticked her off big time.

”I WASN’T LOOKING AT HER BOOBS,” Therese had growled back. ”I was only making sure they … umm… slipped into where they were supposed to … ” After careful consideration she had picked up a black lace babydoll from Carol’s drawer for her to wear, and Therese had simply needed to adjust it properly on her, that’s all.

”And you just had to choose the sexiest piece of lingerie for her to don, too … ” Abby griped, annoyed. She had never seen the said garment on Carol, and the thought of witnessing it grace her employer’s sultry body now was troubling to say the least. There were, after all, some things one wished to take pleasure in only when all the concerned parties were – _present_.

”It looked … comfy … ” Therese murmured, embarrassed by her weak argument.

”And that is exactly why people buy FUCKING LINGERIE,” Abby continued mercilessly. ”Because it's SO COMFY.”

Carol’s questioning stare cut Therese’s rapturous reminiscing short. ”Yes, I did want to talk to you about something … ” The memory of Carol’s voluptuous curves filling the black babydoll perfectly wrecked the rest of her sentence.

”So what is it?” Carol was starting to sound impatient, and for a minute Therese couldn’t think of anything to say. Her mind was consumed by the different ways in which the thin lacy fabric had folded against her boss’ contours, how Carol’s skin had seemed to glow just beneath the hem of the deliciously sinful attire.

This had happened way too many times lately. No matter how cunning she had been behind Carol’s back, in direct contact with her Therese had repeatedly dropped the ball. Grasping at straws, Therese attempted to save herself by blurting out something – anything – _insignificant_ , but even words were against her this time.

”Would you like to have dinner with me?”

* * *

_Dallas, two years ago, five days after Genevieve’s visit_

”Beth has prepared us a feast,” Kathleen Morra stated, ushering Therese to the dinner table. ”I especially asked her to make your favorite foods … ” Smiling, Kathleen was happy to register Therese’s surprise. ”Yes, darling, I have paid attention.”

Seeing the antique table so immaculately set, yet the shiny silver bowls overflowing with perfectly crisp fries, fluffy onion rings and other lovingly made fast food was both comical and heartbreaking to Therese. The enormous lump in her throat was enough to bring tears in her eyes, when she took her seat at the table. Therese knew it was all just for her, and as a gesture so typical of Kathleen who always thought of her, always put Therese’s needs ahead of her own. Why Kathleen did that was unfathomable to Therese, for she had never known such kindness, let alone love that didn’t seek its selfish gratification.

To have that kind of attention had made Therese greedy for more, but it had also had another kind of effect on her. While she embraced what was being lavished upon her, Therese wanted to tear it all apart, too. Kathleen’s affection had reinvigorated her existence as if a healthy organ had been transplanted inside of her. Yet the rest of her core was somehow hell-bent to treat the newcomer as an unwelcome intruder, her old self rejecting what could have been the blossoming bud of her evolving one.

Picking up strips of fried potato out of an ornamented bowl felt suddenly like an ordeal as if the sheer movement of her hand was too hard and complicated. Therese stopped eating, the pile of golden longs appearing seemingly untouched. She was running out of time, and the last thing she was supposed to be doing was stuffing her face with fries, Therese thought.

Genevieve expected her to fly back to New York tomorrow. ”You’ve had your week. Get the damn clip and clear out.” Therese had ended the call without another word, but she had been all too aware of what her situation was. She faced an impasse, a dead end, and no amount of talk about Europe, of any sweet escape, could turn her reality into something it was not. She had to make her move, and she had to make it tonight.

Something in the way Therese chose to leave her favorite food alone must have alarmed Kathleen, too, for she went out of her way talking tirelessly about the future she had envisioned for the two of them. Every word, every new sentence, that dropped out of Kathleen’s lips had a purpose, a promise as well as a goal. Therese listened to her as long as she could stand it, and when she finally couldn’t, she shut her benefactor’s mouth with her own.

The tender night, their last, was short, teeming with second thoughts. The air was stuffy, the doors of the balcony remaining shut and keeping the darkness at bay. When Kathleen finally fell asleep, Therese was still very much awake. Quietly, she got out of the bed, her mind focused on seeing through what she had initially set out to do.

 _I am what I am, and my life is not my own_. Opening Kathleen’s jewelry box, Therese drew a hasty breath to convince herself of what was inevitable, what needed to happen. She had fetched the replica, and all she had to do was to take out the real one and replace it with Dannie’s fake masterpiece.

”What are you doing?” Kathleen Morra’s question pierced the silence like a lone arrow hitting Therese in the back. Slowly, she turned to face the older woman. When she thought about answering her, nothing came out. Every lie, every possible fabrication, sounded not only dull but felt excruciatingly heavy, too.     

 _Why bother?_ Therese knew the truth was written on her face, and for a while she was almost happy that it was all over now. Everything was finally over for her.

”Had you only asked, I would have given it to you.” Kathleen Morra looked older than her years, her shadowed self shrinking in the opposite corner of the dim room. ”I would have given you everything.”

It was only then when Therese realized that she had been holding the flamingo clip in plain sight all along. The stupid bird appeared to be fluffing its brilliantine feathers as the moonlight hit its uneven surface. It took no more than a second for Therese to understand the agony Kathleen drew from her deception, but that blink of an eye soon grew into an eternity she would never be able to put out of her mind.

When Therese came back to her senses, Kathleen was gone. She hurried after her, for now she knew how to explain and beg for her forgiveness. She would tell Kathleen all about her wretched childhood, about Genevieve, and then she would turn herself in.

Therese followed Kathleen back to her bedroom, but the older woman was nowhere to be found. Only the curtains in front of the opened doors to the empty balcony billowed in the night air.  


	14. Swallow

>  "What a strange thing! […] This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace.”
> 
> _\- Oscar Wilde, The Happy Prince_

* * *

_Dallas, two years ago_

 

“I killed her.”

The words were cold, far too icy to invite a rational reply or even a lame attempt for any far-fetched justification. Therese had said all she wanted to say, and now she sat motionless in the corner of the living room of Kathleen Morra’s townhouse, oddly unfazed by what was taking place right in front of her.

Karl the Bull had been the first one to register the tragedy, having waited in his car outside. What he had thought to be a regular chauffeur duty had suddenly changed into a cleaning job. He wasn’t pleased, but his sulking was lost on Therese.

Dannie, on the other hand, was far from quiet. He had rushed to the scene of the crime right after Karl had alerted him. By the time he had gotten there, Kathleen’s lifeless body had been cleared out of the driveway. Madame was yet to be notified, Therese knew. _It’s only a matter of minutes now_.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” Dannie screamed at Therese. “That for some unfathomable reason, you found it necessary to push an old lady off the balcony? I’d call that stating the obvious!” His shrill voice was wearing Therese down even if she didn’t let it show.

Therese could hardly understand anything what Dannie was saying, but the little she did, needed no correction as far as she was concerned. She may not have actually pushed Kathleen Morra to her death, but it had been her deception that had driven her benefactor to the desperate act. To say that she had done it; that she alone was to blame for Kathleen’s demise wasn’t a source of comfort to her, but maybe – _just maybe_ – Therese could confess her crime and be found guilty. _Of all of them_.

After this Therese could only do one thing: tell everyone that she was a killer – someone who murdered faith, hope and love for something as sordid as money. She would let others think whatever they wished just to create a gaping distance between her and _them_.

The police would eventually come and take her away, and this time there would be no peril in a pencil-skirt to sweet talk her out of prison time. Therese welcomed the thought, imagining the conjoined bracelets of steel chafing her wrists. Dannie would be on his own after her life sentence, but at least he wouldn’t ever be ruined because of her thirst for freedom.           

The crushing defeat Therese had seen in Kathleen Morra’s eyes just before she had made her exit from this world pierced her repeatedly. Therese would never forget that moment, and since she couldn’t, she vowed to fan its guilty flames as feverishly as possible.  

* * *

“Dinner? With you?” Carol’s surprised voice hid her sudden excitement. She hadn’t seen this coming, and it took her a moment to regain her composure to willingly accept what she had been dreaming of for quite some time. Her befuddlement, however, worked against her before she could give a proper reply.

“I meant you… and your husband!” Therese hastened to say, mortified by what she mistakenly construed as Carol’s reluctance to accept her bold proposition. “Dannie and I – we’ve talked about it for a long time… how we would like to express our gratitude for this opportunity I’ve been given.” Her cheeks had warmed up, but she hoped she could save her face from more conspicuous signs of blood red embarrassment.  

“Oh…” Carol said, looking at Therese. In that fleeting nanosecond of frisky hopefulness, Carol had somehow had time to blow their dinner date out of all proportions as if Therese had invited her to a luxury cruise for two instead of a mere meal. “That… is very kind of you… two.” The imaginary Love Boat was embarking but poor Carol wasn’t on it. Instead she pictured herself in a dingy rubber raft with Harge, paddling helplessly toward folded napkins and dull dinner conversation. “Thank you. I… we are looking forward to it.” Neither one was looking forward to it any longer, but there was one person who disliked the idea even more than they did.

“We’ll be having dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Aird on Saturday”, Therese told Dannie when she got back home later the same day. “I made a reservation for us at _Sine Causa_.” Her statement lacked enthusiasm but she had only herself to blame.

The information was enough to interfere with Dannie’s work. “We’re having dinner with the woman you drugged and her paralyzed hubby? Do I have to remind you that he’s seen both you and me the night we dragged his missus up the stairs?”

“What of it?” Therese asked, irritated. “It’s not like he’s going to say anything.”

Dannie could hardly argue with Therese over her last remark but he wasn’t keen on rubbing elbows with people they were busy hoodwinking. After two years, Dallas still loomed vividly at the back of his mind as a warning example of getting too close and cozy.    

* * *

_New York, two years ago_

 

In the end it was Genevieve who took charge of what had happened, not the police. When Therese realized her mistake in not turning herself immediately in, it was much too late.  Then again it would have been impossible to go through with it _without a body_. As far as anyone could tell ‘aunt Kathleen had only realized her lifelong dream of exploring the old country’ as explained by one of her estranged relatives to whom Mrs. Morra had allegedly sent a ‘very generous letter’.

 _Who mourns an old lady who had money but no real human contact?_ Therese knew the answer, aware of her instrumental role in making Kathleen draw the final curtain over a fundamentally sad life.

 _That stupid clip_. It didn’t come as a surprise to Therese that it was the first and only thing Genevieve really cared about. Therese gave it to her alright – the gorgeous flamingo in all of its blinding glory _just as Dannie_ _had perfected it_. After all, one really couldn’t tell which was the real deal and which the fake.

Returning home, or to the place she had once regarded as something resembling it, Therese opened the bottom drawer of her wardrobe. She cleared away the unruly layer of magazines she had placed over her most personal belongings. A crumpled leaflet advertising a young and promising performance artist called ‘Therese Tourbillon’. A laminated menu from the now-defunct diner she had visited with Dannie when they had first met. Her diploma from Carlsbad. A memory stick and a handwritten list of names and addresses of the girls who had endured the same treatment Therese had yet still opted to pine after their tormentor. Even the silks her mother had fallen off of at the time of her tragic accident.

This time Therese wasn’t interested in any of them. What she needed was the small cardboard box in the far right corner of the drawer that held her treasures – the innocent rhinestones that had no value beyond what she thought of them. Now they were about to have company, a strange bird Therese had smuggled into her room. _A king had abdicated his throne for the woman this damn clip had belonged to_ , she thought, amused to see the famed flamingo disappear underneath the endearing riffraff.

“I think it’s just too much,” Therese had told Kathleen when she had first seen the said piece. Although it had served to mask her ultimate interest, she had been honest, too.

“But I find it enchanting!” Kathleen Morra had laughed in surprise. “And flamingos, too. The healthier they are, the more colorful they get – isn’t it charming?”

Pushing the box back where it belonged, Therese thought what a balancing act her own life had been. She had stood on one faltering foot like a faded lawn ornament portraying the very bird Kathleen had had such fondness for. Therese had teetered on the brink of sanity for years, yet now when everyone around her thought she was taking the final nosedive, a plan had started to take shape in her mind. _To believe that our wings are clipped keeps us meek and submissive, but when we feel the indomitable lift tickle what we once thought dead, we can’t fool ourselves anymore_.                         

* * *

After Therese’s surprising news of the upcoming dinner, the unlikely married couple spent the rest of the evening in uncomfortable silence. Dannie focused all his energy on the work at hand, making sure he missed every single one of Therese’s conciliatory glances. When Therese got up the following morning, she didn’t bother waking him before she left the apartment.

Therese got off the train at Greenpoint Avenue and headed toward the corner of Manhattan and Calyer. Playing with something cold and angled inside her coat pocket, Therese slipped in between four stony columns of a Manhattan bank branch.

“How nice to see you again, Miss Dennis,” an elderly teller greeted Therese soon after she had made her presence known. “You are here for your safe deposit box?” The woman’s smile was warm but it couldn’t compete with the puffy mass of blueish grey hair that framed her face.

‘Miss Dennis’ acquiesced to nod. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Mrs. Viglione. Therese had only deemed best not to engage in lengthy conversations with someone she suspected might have a loose tongue despite the bank secrecy. Instead she followed Mrs. Viglione in silence, her lips forming a polite upward curve every now and then. Once inside the three-foot thick vault, she took out the item that had been burning a hole in her pocket. It was the time for her and Mrs. Viglione to turn their respective keys simultaneously in the cover of Box 645. Therese had picked the number herself.   

Mrs. Viglione removed the elongated box from its shelf and handed it to Therese. “The private transaction room is at your disposal,” she said lowering her voice as if what she was disclosing were somehow shady and embarrassing.

Finally alone, Therese spread the box’s contents onto the simple desk. The desk lamp shone its bleak light on the miscellaneous items bringing out the bling that both brought her anguish and sustained her hope for a better tomorrow. Some of the pieces had lately gone missing from the flamingo’s colorful plumage, chipped away with microscopic precision.

Therese sat down and opened a small tool kit she had brought along with her. Aided by an eye loupe magnifier and a pair of special pliers, she started to work on the clip. Therese remained focused, not wanting to harm the poor bird more than she had to. _Maybe I’m not harming it at all_ , she thought to herself, extracting one diamond here, another ruby there. _I like it better now_. In its current condition, the opulent creature looked _nicer_ , more honest.

All along Therese thought of Dannie, of what he might say should he know what she was up to. Her latest acquisitions, two booklets, both with a bald eagle adorning the dark blue cover, caught her attention as she was taking a break from her task. The photos in the passports belonged to her and Dannie, but the names didn’t. Therese had never uttered a single word to Dannie about the documents she had acquired. She couldn’t because no matter how much she had tried to build him up with care and affection, Dannie remained weak at best, too liable to crack under pressure.

 _“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move."_ Therese had been bedridden with chickenpox when Dannie had entertained her with Oscar Wilde’s fairytale for the very first time. It had become Therese’s favorite, prompting her to call Dannie ‘Happy Prince’.

 _Well, you’re not exactly a swallow_ , Therese mumbled to the plucked flamingo. _You’ll just have to wing it then_. Smiling, she pocketed the extracted gems and returned what was left back to the box. The passports would have to wait for another time, too.

* * *

“Aren’t you coming in?” Abby opened the front door to the absent-minded Carol who had seemed to forgotten how to use her key.

“Yeah… sorry,” Carol said, sighing. “Something odd happened in the museum today, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.” She hung her coat and entered the dining room where Abby had been feeding Harge. Her mind was elsewhere and it bothered the ever vigilant nurse.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked, sensing trouble.

“My assistant asked me and Harge for a dinner on Saturday… in a restaurant,” Carol started cautiously.

“Ther… uhm… Miss Belivet asked _you and Harge_ for a date?” Abby’s question poured out with force.

“Well, yes, she and her husband want to thank me or something,” Carol explained, looking less than thrilled.

“Miss Belivet and Mr. McElroy want to _thank_ you?” Abby couldn’t have sounded more surprised, but as soon as she had said it, she realized that she had gone too far. “I mean – how is that even _possible?_ Eating in general presents certain problems to Mr. Aird… I don’t see how he’ll do in a fancy eatery.” A clever save, she thought to herself.

If possible, Carol looked even more perturbed. “You’re right… how come I didn’t think of that? What should I do now?” Despite her mixed feelings, she wasn’t ready to give up Saturday altogether.

“There’s only one thing _we_ can do,” Abby stated with confidence. “I’m coming along.”


	15. Around the Bend

It was late, and the only ones left in the museum were the security guards - and Carol. She was sitting behind her desk in her office, browsing bank statements and other financial documents that spoke plainly about the sorry state of her current situation. The money she was making just wasn’t cutting it, and nothing in her immediate future indicated a turn for the better.

 _Christ_ , Carol thought, turning the emerald ring in her finger. It had become a nervous habit, something she resorted to when deeply troubled. _Five thousand dollars… like fixing a pinhole on the hull of the Titanic_ . She had tried her best to keep both herself and Harge afloat, but no matter what she had come up with, she was still sinking fast. _I am only postponing the inevitable. We’ll lose the house, and I’ll end up a poor bag lady pushing Harge’s wheelchair back and forth over the Brooklyn Bridge_.

The brand new layout for the leaflet to promote the upcoming exhibition caught her eye. It was waiting for her green light. The cover of the four-color-flyer flaunted the 19th century portrait of the empress Marie-Louise with her infant son, Napoleon II, painted by Joseph Franque. The famous necklace and earrings graced the inner spread. _Almost forty emeralds, over 1200 diamonds, gold and silver… an amazing fortune by any standard_ , Carol mused, tracing the details of the photo with the tip of her right index finger while her other hand played with the small key hanging from the chain around her neck. Suddenly such unbounded abundance seemed ludicrous to her, even wrong.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was still here…” Richard Semco stood in the doorway, embarrassed. Alerted by what he had apparently thought of as a light mistakenly left on,  he had opened the door unannounced.

“It’s alright, Richard,” Carol said, placing an empty folder on top of her failing credit records. “I should’ve left hours ago, but it’s so easy to lose the track of time with all this.” She stirred in her chair uncomfortably, willing to leave the room just to get the nosy security chief out of there.

“The PR material looks great,” Richard pointed out, not noticing his boss’ eagerness to end their encounter. He picked up the very leaflet Carol had been examining and turned it clumsily around in his hands. “It’s a huge responsibility we are being entrusted with,” he said reverently. “I was just going over the insurance papers to make sure the centerpiece has been sufficiently covered.”

Carol had gotten up and fetched her overcoat. “Must be a hefty sum, am I right?” she asked in passing.

“Oh yes, the French have been very particular about it even though the chances of their precious necklace ending up being stolen are miniscule at best.” Playing with one of his coat buttons, Richard looked needlessly smug. “It would have to be one hell of a thief to get by all the precautions we have taken to secure the items on display.”

Carol smiled at Richard, but her sunny disposition was only skin-deep. “For the argument’s sake…” she started apprehensively, “what would happen if the empress’s jewels were to go missing while in our custody?”

Richard straightened his back as if to express his doubt of such a thing ever happening, but after a while he decided to humor his superior. “After a thorough investigation the insurance would pay the French the estimated value of the necklace and earrings… around five million dollars,” he elaborated. “Of course the real misfortune would be the irreparable damage to the cultural exchange between our countries,” he continued, channelling words that fit badly into his mouth.    

 _He must’ve heard someone else speaking on the matter_ , Carol guessed.

“So for me, it’s a question of professional pride…” Richard pontificated. “And certainly one for our fine institution to see to the safekeeping of irreplaceable treasures.” He went silent, exhausted by a sudden spurt of statements he had never been known to throw around.

“What if there is a malfunction in the safety system?” Carol inquired innocently, holding the door open for chief Semco.

“Dear Mrs. Aird,” Richard said, adopting a distinctly patronizing tone of voice. “It is a foolproof system, I have personally seen to it.” He refused to part with the leaflet as if it were the very opinion he was fighting for.

“Maybe the hypothetical thief is not a fool?” Carol laughed, pushing Richard out of her office once and for all. The joke was lost on him, and instead of replying, Richard acquiesced to look confused and stupefied. “Oh c’mon, Richard, I’m kidding,” Carol hastened to say. She couldn’t wait to get out.

* * *

The air in the gym was stuffy, saturated with a permanent stench of sweat that never really left the room. It didn’t bother Therese for she had gotten used to bleak training quarters. At least this space was all hers for four hours three times a week, thanks to Jimmy Three Fingers’ sleazeball of a cousin, Ned, who ran the place as a front for his shady businesses.

The silks had been rigged up in the ceiling according to Therese’s detailed instructions. She had insisted Ned make sure they wouldn’t yield at any circumstances, so an unusual experiment had been performed before Therese had tested them herself. The unsuspecting Baldo had been strung up by his feet for almost two hours before he had given up his self-imposed oath of silence to put an end to it.

Therese had done her climbs and drops for two hours, and now it was time for the endless stretching she rarely enjoyed. She opened up her hips, breathing deeply and focusing her mind on what she was about to do. She slowly rocked back and forth in a lunge position, her left leg extended behind her.

As Therese felt the stretch in her hips, she thought of Carol. The image of the woman she found beautiful and elegant became more defined the longer she held her pose. The dinner invitation she had blundered bothered her. _Maybe she would’ve said no but at least I would know it for sure now_ , Therese mused before gradually descending into a full split on the rubber mat. What she would have exactly known eluded her though. The answer always seemed to hover right next to her conscious mind, but it never materialized into a straight-out need to find out what was really _there_.

The closer her pelvis came to touch the floor, the less Therese was able to not think of Carol.  She could feel the exertion, the pulse of her fearful heart right in her groin. Or was it fear at all? She was flexible but doing a split had never felt this hard.

Worried, Therese did a backbend to reassure herself. She took comfort in feeling the muscles in her back flex as they had always done. “Do another one only if your body appears open to the idea,” had her mother’s former trainer once advised her.

 _Open to the idea_ . The concept set Therese’s thoughts aflame, its connotations shooting out of her mind like Roman candles out of a platinum candelabra. She was ready to bend over backward to make Carol like her, to truly care for her. _Like real people do in real life_ . And she was ready to do the same in return. The strange rigidity that affected her private parts didn’t have anything to do with stiff muscles although _there was_ distinct stiffness to her whenever she thought of the woman she now worked for.

Dannie would have told her that she needed to get laid to quit being such a tight ass. Therese agreed. She did need it, but it was with Carol she wanted to have it happen. _And it won’t be just sex either_ , she thought to herself. This epiphany she hadn’t seen coming, yet now as she dragged it out of the dark recess of her baffled brain it made perfect sense. _I think, no...  I must be…_

“I don’t think we’ve ever done it in _that_ position.” Amused, Genevieve leaned against the door frame, watching Therese in a full-on spider pose.

“What are you doing here?” Therese asked, irritated by the less than welcome sight of her _other_ boss.

“That’s not a way to greet a lover who hasn’t seen you in ages,” Genevieve demurred, her hips swinging from side to side as she approached Therese. “What a filthy hole,” she complained, pressing her nostrils shut with her manicured fingers. “Can you do that again in my place... say, in fifteen minutes? I’ll promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She winked at Therese, the tip of her tongue flicking out to touch her upper teeth.           

“Whatever it is you want to say, you can say it here,” Therese interrupted. She wasn’t in the mood for Genevieve’s lewd remarks let alone for her idea of afternoon delight.

The good cheer Genevieve had exuded evaporated dangerously quickly. Her mouth a mean streak of discontent, she placed her handbag on top of a vaulting horse that had seen better days. “Have you made your plans?” she asked coldly. “I assume you have everything figured out, done the calculations?” Glancing at the abandoned silks, Genevieve clearly didn’t expect anything else than an affirmation.

“I’ve done my homework,” Therese said matter-of-factly. “The European Sculpture and Decorative Arts department presents a challenge but not one that I can’t handle, rigging-wise that is.” She paused for a quick second. “It’s the other stuff that I need to take care of. The added security, namely the key…” The memory of how the practical pendant caressed Carol’s collarbone filled her mind.

“It’s your job to get the key,” Genevieve pointed out. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get close enough to snatch the damn thing away from her when the time comes.” She sounded impatient.

“The key can’t be ‘snatched’ away, you’ve told me so yourself! It will set off the alarm the moment it’s removed from her neck.” Genevieve’s attitude further aggravated Therese.   

“Sounds like you have a problem then,” Genevieve shot back without missing a beat. “No skin off my teeth!” Although Therese had apparently lost the precious emerald ring by accident, Genevieve had not forgotten it. It had been _her_ ring for she had given it to Therese who should’ve known better. If there was one thing Genevieve truly hated, it was the occasional ‘unpredictability’ of her property. After all, Therese did belong to her just like all the riches she had accumulated over the years.

 _Dannie does what he is told and Abby knows her place, just like all the girls before Therese… why can’t she simply bend to my will?_ The airs Therese kept putting on, the interplay of her indifference, sarcasm and aggressive desire baffled Genevieve to no end. Lately she had become aware of a faintly familiar pull somewhere deep inside her although she was far too afraid of recognizing it yet. Stemming out of the bleeding edge of her past, the undeniable attraction tasted of copper and rust.             

* * *

_Dallas, 2 years ago_

 

“Pack your bags.” Genevieve wasn’t kidding around. She had had plenty of time to think everything through in the airplane. When Abby had handed her the cell phone, Genevieve had braced herself for the worst. _Is Therese dead?_ Abby’s desolate eyes had prepared her for the grim view of what had happened that fateful night in Kathleen Morra’s house.

Now she was standing in front of the petite brunette who appeared as unresponsive as stubborn. Dannie and Karl The Bull had moved Therese to her hotel after everything imperative had been taken care of. She had fought against it until Karl had knocked her unconscious and carried her over his shoulder to the waiting car.

“Pack. Your. Bags.” The repeated words seemed to have little or no effect.

“Is that the best you can do?” Therese’s contemptuous reply made a shiver run through Genevieve. The image of Therese pushing the old woman off the balcony in one cold, calculated move flashed against the canvas of her mind. She had never before thought of Therese as violent, yet now it was all she could think about. The gust of emotion it produced was both disturbing and oddly alluring.

“Why don’t you smack me around a bit and see where it’ll get you?” Therese taunted Genevieve. “Give me a piece of that good old fashioned Karen Wright routine…” She was asking for it, pushing Genevieve to lose both her temper and control.

It was then when the balance shifted for the first time. For Genevieve, it spelled a sudden lose-lose situation although she wasn’t fully aware of it. The side of her right hand tingled, its skin warmed up and reddish. This had the earmarks of all those moments when she had physically disciplined her girls, even Therese at one time. _Spare the rod and spoil the child_ , her father had chanted before making sure his daughter would not be among the tarnished ones.  

“Pull yourself together and return to New York,” Genevieve spoke instead. “There’s something you need to take care of.” She was dodging Therese’s dare, which didn’t go unnoticed.

“I don’t need to take care of shit,” Therese mumbled, barely hiding her surprise at Genevieve’s cool demeanor.

“You’ll do one more gig, and then you’re free to fuck up your life any way you want,” Genevieve stated. It was more than what she had meant to say, and she regretted her choice of words immediately. _I’ll deal with it later_ , she mused. Right now it was important to get Therese moving, no matter how many lies she had to tell her in order to make it happen.               

The flamingo clip lay on the bed next to Therese. Genevieve grabbed it not even stopping to take a closer look at it. “Make sure she’s on the next plane to JFK,” she ordered Karl. “I don’t care how you’ll do it as long as you’ll make it happen.”

* * *

“Fine.” Therese saw no point in prolonging the conversation. Instead she did a smooth backbend that was immediately topped off with an impressive chin stand. Her arms securely on the ground, Therese raised her legs off the ground until they were back behind her. “I’m not going to tie myself in knots over this.” _A solution will present itself_.  

It was impossible to talk to Therese when she was showing off, occurred to Genevieve who was unable to avert her eyes from the athletic frame on triumphant display. Leaving without trying would have felt like a failure though, she decided. “Why don’t you come over on Saturday?” Genevieve suggested. It was an olive branch of sorts. “I’ll ask Michelle to whip up something special and we’ll have a nice evening.” She misinterpreted Therese’s abrupt discomfort. “Or let’s make it a whole leisurely weekend. Just the two of us.”

Such a generous invitation to Genevieve’s mansion was enough to make Therese roll her eyes but she managed to keep her feelings to herself. There had been a time when she would have jumped at the chance of spending two days and two nights with Genevieve in her actual home, away from the oppressive reality of the dormitory that had never had the feel of a _real_ place.

Therese thought of Carol, of how much enjoyment she derived from the mere idea of spending time with her. Every working day she had had the privilege of sharing with Carol had flown by in what had felt like only a matter of minutes. _Every word from her lips is an incantation that melts hours into seconds, into pitiful atoms of time that only know how to scurry around or run away from me_.

With Genevieve, Therese wouldn’t know how to get by entire mornings, afternoons, evenings or nights. The one diversion they occasionally did enjoy together would probably get tiresome before lunch, she thought, especially if they were trying to be _nice_ to each other.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Therese said. “I have other plans.” Seeing the disappointment on Genevieve’s face, she hastened to soften her rebuff. “Plans that will make sure you’ll get what you want…” Therese held Genevieve’s gaze. “And I’ll get what I want.” In her mind’s eye, she saw Carol at the restaurant table (or was it next to the coat check?) looking more inviting than ever, wanting Therese to kiss her on the mouth, on her neck, to slide a hand under her top… The instant fantasy invoked everything dormant in her as if a travelling circus had miraculously set up its tent on an empty town square without anyone noticing.             

“Another time then,” Genevieve commented on her way out, startling Therese out of her unnecessarily detailed mirage. “Keep me posted.”

* * *

Therese was ready to go before Dannie had even taken a shower. “Do I have to?” he appealed to her, hoping there could still be a way for him to skip the dinner with the Airds. “I’m no good in chitchat, T. I don’t know how to make conversation with fancy folks let alone understand what they’re saying at times.” He appeared genuinely distressed, but Therese wasn’t going to have any of it. Had Dannie kept his vocal anguish at minimum during the past week, Therese might have been more sympathetic to his plight. Now it was just the case of Therese having reached her saturation point with his constant whining.

“Not another word. You’re going and that’s final.” Ignoring Dannie’s mute martyrdom, Therese glanced at herself in the mirror. _I look damn good even if I say it myself_. “Besides, it will be mostly me and Mrs. Aird talking. Can’t really imagine Mr. Aird striking up a conversation with you,” she snorted, handing him a towel. “Chop-chop! We don’t want to be impolitely late.”

A Lyft driver dropped them off in front of _Sine Causa_ an hour later. “What the fuck _is_ this place?” Dannie asked Therese once they had entered the dark foyer of the restaurant neither one of them had visited before.  

“This is what’s hot right now...” Therese said slowly, her suspicious eyes scanning the dungeon-like space. She couldn’t recall who had recommended the place for her. “Belivet, table for four. I have...” Therese had started talking to the maître d’ before she had actually seen him, and now that she did, the simple statement died down without a proper finish. The man was wearing a black hood over his head with only his eyes visible through two holes in the fabric.

“Welcome to _Sine Causa_. Your friends have already arrived and been seated.” The man who was quick to introduce himself as the establishment’s ‘head executioner’ rather than its maître d’ appeared significantly more ingratiating than what Therese was able to make of the restaurant’s rough-hewn interior.

When they finally reached their assigned table, Therese was in for another unpleasant surprise. Carol and Harge weren’t alone, they were with ‘Martha’.

Eating in a place like this would have presented Mr. Aird with insurmountable difficulties and thus spoiled the evening for the rest of them, had she not accompanied her patient tonight, Abby explained with a gracious smile. Carol acquiesced to look inexplicably apologetic.    

Drowning her incipient anger in a _Spanish Inquisition_ ,  the restaurant’s signature cocktail, Therese let her sight wander over the various grim contraptions attached to the walls of the cavernous dining hall.

_We’re in for a torture._


	16. Spanish Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait - again. Work, life, you know. But I will finish this. Thanks for your lovely support <3

“This is a  _ very _ interesting drink,” Carol said although the last sip had made her eyes water. “A stiff one…” she acknowledged, returning her glass back on the table. The mood around the table was conspicuously uncomfortable, everyone battling the unease with a cocktail. Well, nearly everyone -  Abby was hardly paying attention to her  _ Bloody Mary _ . She was busy helping Harge suck a  _ Shirley Templar _ through a straw.

“Which one did you have?” Therese asked, making idle conversation. She was already on her second  _ Spanish Inquisition _ , a treacherous absinthe and cava concoction.

“ _ Panic Attack _ … although I can’t decide whether this is supposed to induce one or keep it at bay.” Carol smiled at Therese, once more feeling the kick of the alcohol.  She wished the others away, framing Therese at the center of her preferred image of a perfect evening.   

Carol’s attention had the desired effect on Therese who swiped a random hair off her jawline thus drawing attention to her swan-like neck. Noticing the gesture, Dannie kicked her foot under the table.

“Ouch…” Therese hissed at him as quietly as she could. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” she muttered under her breath.

“With  _ me?”  _ Dannie shot back, turning his head away from Carol, Abby and Harge. “You’re the one who’s drooling and we haven’t even been served our food yet!” The situation bore all the signs of deep trouble to him. “Maybe you should go easy on the booze, T, or do _you_ plan to pass out this time?”

Therese didn’t appreciate being scolded, and the drink and a half she'd already consumed only exacerbated her reaction. “Mind your own business and stay out of my way.” Therese was being needlessly vicious, and had she been sober, she would’ve realized it too. The alcohol in her blood brought out the mounted impatience she had been harboring for much too long. It only served to strengthen the tunnel vision she was eager to embrace.

“How’s everything here?” Their young waiter sported a perky smile that didn’t quite suit the ‘blood-spattered’ burlap sack she was wearing.

“Oh, everything’s splendid,” Carol hastened to reply. “And I think we’re ready to order…” A quick glance around encouraged her to continue. “I will have the Flayed Monkfish with a side of Lashed Squash…  by the way, what is lashed squash?” A part of Carol was reluctant to know more, but curiosity got the best of her.

“It’s butternut squash prepared in the similar fashion as the Hasselback potatoes - sliced straight down just short of cutting all the way through with rich red ragu between the thin wedges. It’s to die for, even if I say so myself.” The waiter swallowed as if it was her mouth that was watering. 

“How about the No Resistance Vegetable Mousseline with Sauce Nantua for Harge,  _ your husband _ ?” Abby suggested to Carol, carefully punctuating her last two words. “Just run it through a sieve a couple of times more so he won’t choke on it”, she told the waiter. “I’ll have the Joan of Arc Special… yes, the flame-grilled piece of meat.” Abby shut the hefty menu with an unnecessarily loud bang.

“Carol’s succulent filet sounds tempting,” Therese said, enjoying the deepening color on her boss’ cheeks. “If this dish is really to die for, then I guess I’d kill for it.” Hearing Therese’s wicked follow-up, Abby shot a frenzied look at Dannie who suddenly appeared paler than the ale in his beer glass.       

“You won’t be disappointed,” ensured the waiter. “I promise you have never tasted anything like it… “ She cast a curious look around. “Has anyone else had the privilege of sampling this delicacy before?” Therese was shooting daggers at Abby who lost the grip of the menu she had still been holding in her hands. She was only too happy to dive under the table to get it back. “No..?” Oblivious to any display of animosity, the waiter turned to Dannie. “How about you, sir?”

“I’ve never touched it!” Dannie exclaimed, terrified by his trigger-happy compatriots.

“I mean what would you like to order, sir?” The waiter explained, confused by her patron's disproportionate outburst.

“Oh… oh...” Dannie stammered. “I’ll have the Steak Tartare with carrots and fries.” His copy of the menu appeared slightly smudged but he was certain he’d gotten it right.

“It’s actually Steak  _ Torture _ , sir,” the waiter corrected. “A bit of a wordplay spiced with delicious French pronunciation to underline our signature flair.”

For once Therese turned her attention to their waiter. “You’ve tortured the poor cow? Is that it?” She had never heard anything so ludicrous.

“OH NO!” The waiter hurried to explain. “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” The expression on the woman’s face was shocked. “It refers to the presentation, not to Buttercup’s rich and rewarding life.” She had to stop to catch her distraught breath.

“BUTTERCUP?” All five seated at the table looked equally stunned.

“During the meal you will be provided with a complimentary photo album of our prize heifer, Buttercup,” the waiter declared proudly. “We hope that seeing what a happy and fulfilling life she led, grazing organic grass and bonding with other farm animals, will enhance your dining experience.”

Dannie couldn’t get a word out of his mouth nor could anyone else. Even after the waiter had left the table they sat in silence for a considerable amount of time.

The anxious look on Harge’s face alerted Abby to action.”Oh-oh, I’m afraid the medieval Shirley is pushing through already. I need to get him to the toilet. Carol - will you give me a hand?”

Before Carol could get on her feet, Therese patted Dannie on the shoulder. “Be a dear and help Miss Gerhard. I don’t think it’s proper for two women to escort a man to the men’s room.“ Dannie sure as hell didn’t like the idea any more than Abby did, but when the both of them noticed Carol’s eagerness to remain seated, they knew they’d lost the battle even before it had begun.

“Now be a good boy, Harge, and let Mr. McElroy help you. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, darling, we’re all friends here.” Carol couldn’t wait to get rid of them.

* * *

When they were finally alone, Therese cleared her throat. “Tonight didn’t quite turn out the way I hoped it would,” she said after a short silence.

Pensive, Carol smoothened the collar of her dress between her fingers. “It’s early,” she replied. “What have you ruined that can’t still be fixed?” Carol’s question wafted flirtatiously in the air between them, reluctant to attach any distinct meaning to its curiosity.    

_ If you only knew _ , Therese thought. “What happens after the exhibition is over and done with?” she asked instead, ignoring the open question. 

“What do you mean ‘what happens’?” Carol demanded to know.

_What happens to_ _us_ was what Therese had really wanted to ask. She was on the verge of telling Carol everything and risking not only her own but also Dannie’s future in the process. “I mean what do you plan to do afterwards?” she acquiesced to say.

Carol was disappointed but this time she hid it well. “I suppose something else will come along,” she said without really thinking. “Life goes on and we adapt to it.” Her voice was quiet and resigned.

“Don’t you think we should seize a real opportunity if we are being presented with it, no matter what the consequences are?” The challenge that formed out of Therese’s words awakened Carol once more.

“You think so?” Carol’s eyes sought the truth behind Therese’s boldness. “At any cost?” She wasn’t sure what Therese was saying, or if any of it could be applied to her personal situation, but the abrupt fierceness in her assistant’s attitude electrified and aroused her all the same. Her heart racing, Carol knew that everything she had accepted as normal and unchanging was suddenly shifting inside her, turning her humdrum life into something risky and new.      

“People complicate their wants and needs, yet wanting itself is not complex at all. It is very straightforward.” The two _Spanish Inquisitions_  egged Therese on. “You recognize what you want and you go after it. You beg, borrow and -  _ steal _ .”

Carol’s heart jumped up to her throat chased by a swarm of butterflies from the pit of her stomach. “So if we’re all thieves, what is it that  _ you _ would like to steal?”

Therese held her breath while the obvious answer whirled around in her bewildered brain.  _ You _ .  _ You. You _ .

The moment of revelation was ruined by the arrival of Abby, Dannie and Harge - and their overeager waiter who wanted to delight the diners with the kitchen’s culinary greeting. While she was busy setting it up, Abby decided to have some fun of her own at the expense of the establishment’s grim style.

“So what is this called? Hopefully not an  _ ‘abuse bouche’ _ ?” she chuckled.

The waiter didn’t find her joke funny at all. “This is a Thoma S’More, and we invite each guest to take part in its preparation.” She handed everyone a metal skewer that held a plump marshmallow. “On your appetizer plates you have a layer of very bitter dark chocolate on top of a millet cracker made according to a revised 16th century recipe.” The sad, square cookie had a year ‘1516’ pressed on it. “While you are roasting the marshmallow on this miniature fire, you will be treated to a reading of  _ Utopia _ in Latin via bluetooth speakers embedded on the sides of your tabletop. Please enjoy!”

The dreary, monotonous recital that soon followed freaked Dannie out. “How do you turn this damn chanting off?” he agonized, searching frantically for some hidden switch underneath the table.

“I don’t think we can,” Carol said. “Let's just make the best of it.” She sighed, unhappy to have missed Therese’s reply to her important question.

Therese, too, was venting her frustration. “I don’t know what these people are hoping to achieve but so far they’ve done pretty much the opposite. Besides, Thomas More was not burned at the stake, he was beheaded.”

Spoon-feeding Harge his share of white gooeyness, Abby shrugged her shoulders. “More, s’more - burned, schmurned - who cares? I’d keep that not-so-juicy juicy tidbit to myself and not antagonize the chef here just for the sake of being historically accurate.” Others, Therese included, seemed to agree. In any case, private roasting felt much better than having a hooded member of the staff mince their hors d’oeuvres with an axe.         

“What the fuck is  _ this _ ?” Dannie whispered to Therese after the waiter had placed his meal in front of him. The plate, or rather a small coffin resembling an iron maiden, had a huge chunk of raw meat in it. A raw egg yolk was balanced on top of it with sprinkled cayenne pepper pricking the yellow membrane.

“Steak Tartare,” Therese said, finding Dannie’s question funny. “Sorry, I meant  _ Torture _ .” For Dannie, the hefty portion was already delivering what its name promised.

“Where’s that lovely thick tarragon sauce? And you know how I like my steaks...” Understanding Dannie’s helplessness, Therese took pity on him. She waved at the waiter.

“Would you take this back and bring the gentleman The Joan of Arc Special instead.” She pushed Dannie’s untouched plate toward the waiter. “And make sure his Joan is well-done.”

* * *

“Pretty decent grub,” Abby mumbled, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a rough-hewn hemp napkin. Even Harge looked relatively pleased although his meal had left much to be desired.  

“It was wonderful,” Carol chimed in. “Sheer deliciousness.” She looked at Therese and smiled. “Thank you for arranging this.” Her candid moment was short-lived, thanks to Dannie.

“I do feel bad about Buttercup though…” he said, browsing the complimentary mini album. “Or maybe I have an aversion to knowing the name of the animal I’ve just eaten.”

Therese stood up, not wanting to think about the finished meal. Time was running out, and she had still not made her move. “I’m going to step into the powder room for a sec… Carol, care to join me?”  She could feel Abby glaring at her but it simply didn’t matter to her, not now.

Carol excused herself and followed Therese to the toilet. “What is it?” Carol asked as soon as the heavy door of the ladies’ room had closed behind them. “Is everything alright?”

Therese’s eyes darted around, and only when she was quite certain they were alone in the spacious lounge did she feel comfortable enough to look straight into Carol’s eyes. “What if things don’t work out the way we’ve planned so far?” she started out. “What if… something goes terribly wrong with the exhibition and you… you…” Therese couldn’t help it, the words got stuck in her throat. “Would you… would you…”  _ Would you feel so severely betrayed that you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore? How hard is it to get this out of my system _ ? The train of her thought rushed forward like the crazy locomotive it had always been, and it prevented her from grasping the true implication of Carol’s simple answer.

“Yes, yes I would.”          

 


	17. The Key

“I mean what if… what if everything we’ve...” Therese stopped abruptly. “ _What_ did you just say?” She was sure her own ears were playing a trick on her.

“I said I would.” Carol looked both serious and amused.

“But you don’t even know what I was going to ask you.” Therese had heard right, but it only added to her confusion.

“Whatever it is, I would.” Carol was all in.

“Well, that’s... crazy.” Therese was clearly not reading the signs of Carol’s recklessness right.

“I’ll tell you what is crazy -  this conversation,” Carol laughed, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” Therese asked without missing a beat.

“For someone trying to pose a simple question, or at least so I assume, you are doing a really bad job.” Carol barely touched Therese’s arm, yet the simple gesture stampeded the countless neurons in her body unlike any sensual touch she had known before.

 _Maybe I should just kiss her. Hold her and kiss her like there’s no tomorrow, and when it inevitably comes, only then worry about what to say and how._ It sounded like a reasonable plan. Or at least like a plan Therese very much preferred to the total confession of her past sins and future schemes. _Will you be mine if I steal the centerpiece of your upcoming exhibition? She did tell me what her answer would be._

“What the hell’s keeping you so long?” Abby’s sour face was the last thing Therese wanted to see at this very moment. “Harge is wheezing so badly, I’m afraid he might be having an allergic reaction to that star fruit smoothie.”

Distraught, Carol rushed out of the ladies’ room to find Harge in serious discomfort. An ambulance had to be alerted to get him to an emergency room. Dannie and Abby briefed the paramedics on what had happened during Therese and Carol’s absence. All the playfulness was gone from Carol, which Therese certainly understood. Seeing her so distressed made Therese feel exceedingly guilty, and for some unfathomable reason she blamed herself for the incident.

The sound of a siren carried its frantic message to Therese’s ears long after the ambulance’s lights had disappeared from view. Carol had accompanied Harge to the hospital, but she, Abby and Dannie were still standing cluelessly in front of _Sine Causa_. Therese knew it was only a matter of time when Abby would break the temporary silence with a few choice words meant just for her. It proved to be an even shorter time than she had expected.

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but I’m not going to sit idly by and see how you wreck our lives with your foolish behavior, Therese.” Abby could sound very menacing if she wanted to. “You don’t get to play games with my life or Dannie’s for your sick enjoyment.” Dannie said nothing, but he did turn to see what kind of a reaction Abby’s words caused in his friend.

“Funny you should leave Genevieve’s name out of your reproach”, Therese snapped back. “Reckon you didn’t think it would go down well with appealing to my better judgment?” She hadn’t thought about Lady Cantrell all night, and had she had the choice in the matter, she still wouldn’t have.

“I know what you think of her. Hell, I know what everyone thinks of her, and I don’t condone everything she does...” Lately Abby had been condoning less and less.

“I should hope not,” Therese spat out, “since she’s using you like she’s been using everybody. You’re nothing but a concubine just like all the rest of us she’s screwed in and out of her boudoir. A useful idiot, that’s what you are.”

In a fraction of a second a hand was raised - a hand that slapped Therese hard on the right cheek. It stung her bitterly, but she stayed quiet. “I’m sorry,” Abby mumbled. “I shouldn’t have done that. Please forgive me.” To both Therese’s and Dannie’s surprise, Abby broke out in tears.

“Abby…” Therese whispered, wrapping her arm around her jerking shoulders. “It’s okay.” The tears wouldn’t subside. “I said a mean thing.” Another bout of waterworks followed. “I forgive you.”

Abby raised her head slightly. “What?” Her voice was fractured and the single word question comprehended an incredulity of a lifetime.

“I forgive you.” Therese looked at Abby whose red-rimmed eyes conveyed infinite sadness. It had been years since she had really paid attention to her, and it felt good now that she did. “You look like a cocker spaniel,” Therese chuckled, squeezing her arm. “Let’s go get ice cream, you doofuses.”

* * *

“Neither of you wants to hurt Carol anymore than I do,” Therese concluded after each one of them had done away with an ice cream sundae and a jelly donut. “And I have no wish to cramp your style should you wish to stay aboard Madame’s sinking ship…” She cast a stern eye at both Abby and Dannie. “But you don’t have to, that’s all I’m saying.”

Her brow wrinkled, Abby swiped the sides of her ice cream cup with a plastic spoon. “Genevieve will need me if and when all this comes tumbling down. And I do know what that means.”

Dannie shifted uneasily in his chair. “What about me? It’s not like I’ll be able to ride off to the sunset when everything falls to pieces. And I’m sure as hell not going back to the pen!” Dannie’s right hand was shaking as he raised it to rub his jaw - a nervous tic he often resorted to.

“I’ll take care of everything, Dannie. You won’t go to prison, I promise.” Therese knew how fragile and impractical  Dannie was, and even if hers was a hefty and shaky promise, she knew Dannie didn’t mind it. Dannie never looked beyond the face value of any uttered pledge, and in that sense he was like a child - a little boy who wanted to be assured that his parents would never die so that he could settle back to his carefree oblivion.    

* * *

Carol returned home very late. Harge had to stay overnight in the hospital, which she found both soothing and troubling. Having survived a serious respiratory episode, her husband was finally resting under competent supervision. Then again the price of his stay there would make yet another serious dent to their diminishing funds.

Sighing, she updated Abby on Harge’s condition. For some reason Abby had stayed up all this time to wait for her. “I’m going to take a sleeping pill and hopefully not dream about anything at all,” Carol said as she started dragging her weary feet upstairs.

Entering her bedroom, she flicked the switch but the ceiling lamp didn’t go on. Nor did the one on the nightstand. _The fuse must’ve blown_ , Carol thought, yawning. While brushing her teeth, she felt suddenly uneasy as if something else was somehow off, too. _It’s the pill kicking in_ , she mused as she crawled under the covers. The strange feeling returned, and she sat up to look around in the dark room. _I’m so tired I’m imagining things_ , she decided. Soon her eyelids fluttered shut as if an invisible fan was spread against them with gentle but determined force.                          

When Carol’s breathing had steadied into sleep, the darkness in front of the bed stirred and became alive. What had only a minute ago been mere blackness took a shape of a thin figure dressed in a black cat suit and a ski mask, matching gloves and sneakers. Therese had been in the room all along, let in by Abby who was now standing by should she need any help.    

* * *

_Two hours earlier_

“You can’t tell her.” Ever since Dannie had left for the night, Abby had grown very confident in her opinions.“If you’re still going to go through with this, you will have to take care of the heist on your own and let her be the dummy she is…” Seeing Therese’s astonishment over her choice of a word, Abby hastened to elaborate. “I don’t meant that Carol is a dummy _per se,_ I only think it would benefit both of you if you’d keep her in the dark.” Abby sighed. “Look, she’s already high-strung with the exhibition as it is. Do you really think she could handle this kind of information right now?”

It did sound improbable, Therese admitted. “But I’m mad about her, and I want her to know the truth. How can I ever hope to have an honest relationship with her if I don’t come clean about what I’m up to?” Therese was desperately trying to mend her ways.

“Honey, that ship has sailed ages ago…” Abby sighed once more. “If you were to tell her now, she’d only be morally obligated to stop you, no matter what she might feel for you.” Once again her words made sense. “If, however, you’ll pull out the most shameless jewel stunt in history and go back to whisk her off to some paradise island with you, it might just make her go weak in the knees.”

Having said that, Abby realized how much she herself had wanted to be romanced like that. _The Grande Finale_ , Genevieve had once called it. _Their_ happy ending. It would never happen, and although she must have sensed it from the very beginning, she had only now come to accept it. She would spend as much time as possible with Genevieve during these last months - last months of whatever would become of them. She would keep Genevieve off Therese’s back, but more than that she would stay with Genevieve because she loved her. _My fate is tied to hers, and I will face our comeuppance with my eyes wide open_.

Therese’s eyes glazed over out of the mere prospect of making Carol swoon. She might have spent the rest of the evening staring dreamily into nothingness, had Abby not provided her with the needed reality check. “There is the question of her husband though…”

 _Fucking Harge_ . The romantic bubble burst as swiftly as it had formed, the languid palm trees and bounteous umbrella drinks disappearing from view like all mirages inevitably do. Carol wasn’t the kind of a woman who abandoned a disabled husband for her own fun in the sun. Then again Therese couldn’t see herself wheeling Harge along a sandy beach while Carol was fixing their cocktails. _Damn it_. “Yeah, I’ll have to give it some thought,” Therese acquiesced to say.

* * *

The scent of Carol’s perfume pervading the silence made Therese lightheaded. She was dangerously close to its source, the warm body that nested peacefully in the heart of the shrouding darkness. Therese saw Carol clearly - at times almost too clearly. A drop of chlorophyll in each eye helped her to pick up hues of red light which enhanced her vision in the otherwise pitch black room. She had used experimental drugs before, but never had she gotten this much pleasure out of something that Jimmy Three Fingers’ cousin’s brother-in-law was working on in a top secret government project.

Now was not a time for any tomfoolery, and Therese had given her word to Abby that she would not abuse this opportunity. She had a reason to be in Carol’s bedroom - it wasn’t the reason she would have wanted it to be, but, as usual, business came first. Therese needed to take a closer look at the key she had briefly admired on Carol’s décolletage.

Her attention focused on a small jewel box on top of the dresser next to the door. She opened it without a sound, confident she would find the key and its chain inside. Carol, after all, was a creature of habit like most people tended to be: she was orderly and she instinctively placed things where they were supposed to go. This time, however, Therese’s logic failed her. No sign of a key, just a pair of pearl earrings, a matching necklace and a rather matronly cameo brooch that looked like a family heirloom. _Not at all her style_.

Carol’s handbag was on the floor, leaning against the dresser. Therese picked it up and emptied its contents on the rug. Cosmetics aside, it held little of interest to her. She fought the temptation to once more press her lips against the worn surface of Carol’s lipstick, and scavenged the miscellania for some hidden yet improbable clue to find what she was looking for. Then it hit her, and the epiphany made her uneasy. Carol was still wearing the key around her neck. Maybe she had it on all the time? _I’ve seen places keys have been hidden at, but none as lovely as this one._ Therese had said so herself, but it was only now that she understood the real truth to her flirtatious remark.

Therese moved closer to the bed, trying hard to see if what she suspected was indeed so. To her chagrin, Carol was currently sleeping on her stomach. The silk sheet covering her torso had lowered so that it barely covered her buttocks. Therese could see the swell of her right breast in contact with the plush mattress. In her opinion, the latter was losing the battle, yielding to the soft pressure from the firmest and most beautiful mammary gland she had ever seen. _Oh fuck_.

Had Therese been the praying kind, she might have asked for a heavenly intervention to flip Carol on her back. Instead she decided to make it happen on her own. Slowly she crawled on all fours until she was close to the bedpost and Carol’s resting head. Therese raised hers and blew lightly on Carol’s face. She blew again, stronger this time, and dared to watch what, if anything, came out of her effort. Carol stirred in her sleep but kept her eyes closed. Therese had her lips puckered for the third attempt when Carol finally shifted her position and turned over. When the entire fickle sheet slipped onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed, Therese was ready to believe in the acts of Providence. There she was, Therese’s beautiful boss, in all her unabashed feminine glory. _Jesus fucking Christ_.

Therese had helped Abby to undress Carol after the drowsy dinner at Genevieve’s, and she had even chosen an unnecessarily nifty outfit for her to sleep in, but this was different. This wasn’t a quick peep show, this was a religious experience even an atheist could understand. Carol in her nude repose reminded Therese of a painting she had stolen after its auction at Sotheby’s - Charles Antoine Loyeux’s _Erigone_. Genevieve had wanted it for herself, and when Therese had seen it, she had understood why. Erigone might have been a tragic, mythological figure at heart, but for Therese she had represented the epitome of female sensuality. Until now.

Sighing, Therese got up from the floor and closed her eyes against her will. What she wanted to keep on gazing at was distracting her from what she was supposed to do. When she opened them again, her former focus was restored.

Therese was lucky. The silver chain around Carol’s neck was long enough to allow the key to drop onto the wrinkled sheet just below her chin. Therese got back on her knees and very carefully unzipped the tool kit she had brought along. Now followed the hard part: scanning the key with a handheld device, the same one she had used in Carol’s office. Without a proper shield the glow of the scanner would more than likely wake Carol up, and that was a risk Therese wasn’t willing to take. This was a problem she literally got covered, though. The scanner itself made no sound, but it was a challenge to get the tiny key under the scanner’s eye without unintentionally pulling the chain in the process. Therese needed thirty seconds, no more, no less. A half a minute wasn’t a lot to ask, yet it was plenty to hold countless possibilities for a failure, should Carol move just half an inch during the maneuver.                       

Carol’s breathing remained steady, her chest rising and descending at even intervals. Therese slid the tips of her index and middle finger under the key and pulled it delicately inside the small scanner box. The loose silver chain on Carol’s throat remained just as immobile as before. Therese pressed the scanner button multiple times, capturing the key from all angles.

From where Therese was looking, she discerned the scanner’s weak red light go on and off again and again. Carol would not have seen it, even if she’d been awake. The thought depressed her, as illogical as it was.

The job finished, Therese returned the key back to its place next to Carol’s relaxed face. She knew she couldn’t stay there gazing at her, not without risking being discovered. Therese retreated toward the door, but just as she was about to disappear, she had to return for one reckless whim.

* * *

When Carol opened her eyes, she wondered if she had slept at all. The dark night lay thick around her with only a thin beam of light from the corridor drawing a pale line on the floor. Still, it wasn’t the slightly open bedroom door that concerned her. No, it was the inexplicable feeling of having been kissed.         


	18. Secrets and Lies

”How’s Dad doing?” Cupping Carol’s hands with hers, the young woman looked very concerned. ”How are  _ you _ , Mom?”

Carol’s eyes were warm and bright but her smile was undeniably sad. ”Rindy darling, I’m okay and your father is no longer in any danger.” Harge’s condition had reached the same level it had had before, and the Aird household had resumed its normal rhythm. ”You’re a sweetheart for having come all this way, but you really shouldn’t have. ” After all, Rindy and her husband lived in Innsbruck, Austria.

”Of course I came,” Rindy said. ”Besides, it’s been ages since we’ve met and I do miss you, Mom.” Carol appreciated her daughter’s words, and she was indeed happy to spend time with her again. 

”Now that you’re here, how long can you stay?” Carol asked. ”More than just a few days, I hope?” Sitting together in her office made Carol wish she could introduce Rindy to Therese. 

”About ten days,” Rindy replied. ”But it’s better than just a long weekend, isn’t it?” Carol nodded, guessing she’d be getting her wish. ”Jon sends his love and we thought you might like this…” Rindy continued, rummaging the suitcase she still had with her. A small, padded parcel surfaced out of its side pocket, and she handed it to Carol with a sly smile.

Carol opened the package and raised her eyebrows both in awe and astonishment. An exquisite crystal demon of the same size as the angel Rindy had previously given her rested soon on the palm of her hand. ”Is there a hidden message in it, or why did you choose such a devilish charmer to complement your former gift?” Carol asked, bemused.

Rindy couldn't help but laugh. ”Your son-in-law did pick this one, so maybe there is!” Seeing the surprise on her mother’s face, she replaced her giggles with a reassuring smile. ”If you look at it more closely, you’ll see that it’s not actually a demon, it’s Pan.” The figurine’s horns and goat-like legs supported Rindy’s claim. The sly, insinuating smile and even the trademark flute were there too.

”That’s right!” Carol acknowledged, impressed by the craftsmanship that had obviously gone into its production. ”But Pan is a devilish character, isn’t he?” she teased her daughter.

”You could do with some devilish charm, Mom,” Rindy smiled. ”I know how hard it’s been for you these past years. And Daddy won’t be getting any better. Are you going to bury yourself alive for him? Had it not been for his accident, I think you two would’ve ended up divorcing sooner rather than later…” Rindy looked suddenly worried that she might have overstepped some invisible boundary of properness that dictated mother-daughter relationships.

Carol wasn’t shocked by Rindy’s words. As a matter of fact, it was the complete lack of shock that made her uneasy. ”What choice do I have?” she spoke soon after. ”I can’t abandon him. In sickness and in health, you know.” There it was again, the resignation, the unconditional surrender in front of the inescapable facts of her life.

”We’ve been thinking – Jon and I – that we could take him…” Rindy started, paying close attention to her mother’s first reaction. ”There are several excellent institutions in Austria, and this particularly good one in Innsbruck… and Dad always loved the landscape, the snow-capped mountains… I’d visit him frequently and he could stay with us, too. I bet he’d  _ adore _ our Bavarian housekeeper, Hildegard…” The more Rindy embellished her proposition, the less secure she became in her conviction that Carol would welcome her idea at all.  

”Rindy, darling…” Carol interrupted. ”The thing is that I can’t afford to put your father in an institution, no matter how tempting it sounds.”  _ By god, it was almost as tempting as the sight of Therese bent over the exhibition designs… _ ”I appreciate your kind offer, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I’d lay my burden on your shoulders, sweetheart. You are trying to start a family, aren’t you?   

Rindy didn't like what she was hearing. “So what if we are?” she said, unfazed by her mother’s objections. “Remember the shiny principle you learned while visiting us, mom:  _ yes to all _ ..” A knock on the door interrupted her well-rehearsed defense.

“Who is it?” Carol asked, both troubled and relieved by the sudden intervention. When she saw who opened the door her disapproval turned into a sunny smile.  _ This day just keeps getting better _ .

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I had no idea you had company.” Therese took a step back as soon as she saw Carol with an unknown visitor. The woman did look familiar though, she thought to herself.

“Oh please, come on in,” Carol invited. “I’d like you to meet my daughter Rindy.” A near carbon copy of her mother, the blond woman turned around to greet Therese. 

“Hello,” Rindy smiled. “You must be Therese. Mom’s told me so much about you. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” The uncanny resemblance between the two of them threw Therese for a loop. “Although Carol has regrettably failed to tell me about you.”                            

“I have, haven’t I?” Carol realized. “It seems silly, too, since you have so much in common…”

_ We do? _   Therese mused, not knowing where Carol’s declaration was coming from.

“Yes!” Carol chuckled, relishing the surprise on both of their faces. “Rindy dear, Therese knows Wattens too! Isn’t it a charming coincidence?”

_ Wattens? _   Therese’s brain was working overtime while her face tried to hide her growing anxiety. The name did sound vaguely familiar but in a similar way as a mere footnote in something once read and too readily forgotten. 

Rindy looked as delighted as her mother. “Oh really? That  _ is _ a coincidence... Still have your  _ dirndl _ , Therese?” she asked, laughing. 

_ Still have my what? _ Therese’s anxiety was turning into sheer terror.

“I’m kidding,” Rindy said, winking at her. “Although mom did look damn good wearing one!” 

“Oh, stop it!” Carol interrupted, scoffing. “It was only once and you more or less tricked me into putting it on…” She wasn’t as sorry as she wanted to let on.  

Therese needed time to think, but the image of Carol in a short skirt, a low-cut blouse and a bodice that pushed the breasts up was hardly helping. 

Carol noticed her unease although she had no idea why their light-hearted banter should affect her so noticeably. “Let’s not tease poor Therese. I’m sure she had much more pressing issues to attend to while working at the Crystal Worlds.”

_ Swarowski Crystal Worlds in Wattens, Austria! _  Now everything fell into place in Therese’s mind, although none of it made her feel any better. The fib she had told Carol had come back to haunt her.

“You must know my husband then?” Rindy asked Therese. “He’s been there for a number of years, and he’s pals with everybody. Jon - Jon Harrison?” The lovely Mrs. Harrison looked for signs of recognition that never materialized on Ms. Belivet’s face.

“I was there for such a short time…” Therese muttered. “I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a bell…”  _ Why oh why did I fabricate such a stupid lie? _

“In that case you must’ve been there at the same time as Norman?” Rindy asked. “Jon and I’ve been simply devastated that we weren’t there then!” 

This was the exit route Therese was eager to take. “Yes, he was very nice, although I doubt if he’d remember me today!” Chuckling nervously she welcomed a pause in the conversation.      

Carol seemed impatient to continue their chat, but Therese had had enough for now. “I think I ought to let you guys catch up.” She glanced at Rindy who was watching her very curiously. “It was great meeting you.” Smiling shyly at Carol, she left the room to breathe more steadily than she had for the past few minutes.  

* * *

Looking out of her office window, Therese observed Carol seeing Rindy off some time later. She remained standing on the curb for a long time after her daughter’s cab had disappeared from view. When Carol finally snapped out of her reverie, she startled Therese by glancing at her from afar. At least it seemed so to Therese even though she couldn’t be sure. If she did, the brief look was quizzical, cryptic. 

Therese stayed in her room, waiting for Carol to come by to go through the work they had lined up for the day. She waited in vain - Carol never showed up.

Someone else did: Richard Semco. “Hey Terry,” he greeted a bit too enthusiastically. “I think we need to talk.” He closed the door behind him and without an invitation sat across from Therese at her desk.

“What on earth would we two have to talk about?” Therese asked, irritated by Richard’s show of macho privilege. 

Richard smiled, revealing a wide set of teeth that made him look like the Cheshire Cat from _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_. “Why do you work here, Terry?” he asked, ignoring her question. “Now, let me think…” Richard taunted. “Is it for the bootie or…  _ the _ bootie?”  

Therese didn’t say a word. Maybe this was just a fishing expedition based on the sham marriage he knew she and Dannie had going on. Richard wasn’t blind or deaf, and Dannie had been careless with his pillow talk in the past. This time they weren’t, however, dealing with an unimportant minor player. Keeping Richard happy and sufficiently far away from Therese’s job was all too important.

“You see, I’ve come to the conclusion that there has to be more than meets the eye here,” Richard said, getting more comfortable in his chair. “You buzz around the boss lady as if she’s made of honey, and Dannie… well, you know what I do with Dannie,” he chuckled. 

“I strongly recommend you think before you say another word.” Therese’s voice was ominous, but its outrage was lost on Richard. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I sympathize with her! Can’t be easy being a virile woman living with a limp vegetable. Maybe  _ I _ ought to pay her a visit one night...” Richard stopped to see what kind of an effect his blunt innuendo had on Therese.        

Therese kept her rapidly whitening fists below the desktop. She had to remain calm. “You are disgusting,” she said as if stating a simple fact that needed no further proof. “I wonder what Mrs. Aird would say if I were to repeat this conversation to her?” She looked Richard straight in the eyes, confident of her ability to contain herself.

“Terry baby, you will do no such thing,” Richard sneered. “You have far too much riding on this. You and Dannie boy want to have the cake and eat it too, I get it.” He picked up a paper clip from the desk and started bending it to Therese’s annoyance. “I just want my slice. A big, juicy one. I have a sweet tooth like everyone else.” Yawning, the overgrown Cheshire Cat seemed suddenly tired of toying with his prey. “I don’t know how you plan to do it, and I don’t intend to make it easy for you. But I will be keeping a keen eye on you both.” Getting up, he took a couple of jellybeans from a small bowl on the desk and popped them in his mouth. “For chrissakes, get some decent candy instead of this shit,” he complained on his way out. When the door closed behind Richard, Therese felt no relief. The memory of his obnoxious grin was still in the room, dampening her mood.

* * *

For the rest of the day Carol let all her calls go straight to the voicemail. She needed time to think, to process what Rindy had said to her. Soon she wouldn’t have a moment’s peace to plan what the next step of her life would be or how her future would turn out. Therese’s personnel file lay on the desk in front of her. What she hoped to learn from it she did not yet know. After all Carol knew so very little about her. Could she trust the attraction that had so effortlessly developed between them? 

The memory of the ill-fated restaurant dinner evoked so many questions. What had Therese wanted to ask her in the restaurant? Had she herself really been so willing to say yes to whatever Therese might have suggested that night?  _ Yes to all _ . The words that Rindy had reminded her of shone brighter and truer than ever at the back of Carol’s mind, although the carefree encouragement sounded far too simplistic at the moment.  

There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary in Therese’s file. Her record was flawless and as such truly remarkable, but in closer scrutiny it lacked the surprises Carol was presently looking for. The image of young Therese hanging high up in the air doing risky stunts was something these papers couldn’t convey, yet it was what she longed to find - the bubble inside the gem, the mossy growth that looked out-of-place but wasn’t.    

Therese the human was the antithesis of these documents, Carol thought. From the very beginning she had suspected that there was something hidden beneath the polished surface, something sorrowful and despairing, although Carol was aware that she might be reading too much into her first impression. 

Bored by the nondescript file, Carol turned to her laptop instead. Hoping to discover something,  _ anything _ , Carol typed four words in the browser's search bar: “aerial” + “contortionist” + “accident” + “death”. 

Most of the resulting pages were clearly off the mark, but she didn’t need to look further than the first one.  _ ‘Aerial acrobat falls to death during performance’  _ read the headline of a news piece dating twelve years back. Startled, Carol clicked it open. 

> _ Sandrine Vickers, 35, from Astoria, New York, was in the middle of her Cirque Lunaire number when she lost the grip of her silks and plunged down from the height of fifty feet. Hitting the wooden stage, Ms. Vickers broke her neck in several places. She was killed instantly, confirmed her long-time coach Del Krasinski... _

Carol scrolled down the text to find what she was really looking for.

> _ Ms. Vickers is survived by her husband, Ray, and her daughter, Therese. _

Sadness replaced Carol’s former suspicion.  _ Survived by _ \- two words that hide a world of pain, she thought. Wanting to know more, she searched for the Cirque Lunaire only to find out about its bankruptcy three years prior. However, she did have one more clue to follow and it was all she needed: Del Krasinski was still very much active and presently teaching at the Aerial Arts NYC. 

At a moment's notice Carol decided to visit Krasinski’s training locale at 235 East 49th Street. Maybe seeing what aerial acrobatics meant in the first place would help clear her head for more defined questions about Therese. 

* * *

The midtown arts center was abuzz with athletes waiting for their classes to begin. Carol felt out of place but not uncomfortable. To witness such unbounded energy was a joyful sight, but when she tried to imagine Therese as one of the smiling youths, she couldn’t.    

“Can I help you with something?” A woman slightly older than the others crowding the corridors had paid attention to Carol’s wandering gaze. 

“I’m looking for Del Krasinski,” Carol explained. “I was wondering if I could talk to him for a minute…” 

The woman who made no effort to introduce herself shook her head. “Del’s here only on Mondays and Thursdays…” Carol’s heart sank even though she knew she could always come back.

“Who’s taking my name in vain?” An amused male voice reached them from across the hall. “Billy’s out of town so I’m filling in for him today.” Carol turned around to see an exceptionally handsome man approaching them. Tall and muscular, he shared the same outward exuberance his students seemed to possess in buckets. “I’m Del Krasinski,” he said, extending his hand to Carol. The woman who'd been no help at all nodded at the coach and left them alone.  


“Carol Aird…” she replied, impressed by the firmness of his handshake. 

“Well, Carol Aird, what can I do for you?” he asked, smiling. At closer inspection, Del Krasinski looked older than Carol had thought at first although his tan face did a marvellous job hiding the exact number of his years. 

“I’m trying to find information on one of your former students,” Carol started. 

“I don’t like talking about my kids, ma’am,” Del said. “Especially when I don’t know who is doing the asking and why.” 

“That’s understandable,” Carol hastened to agree. “It’s just that I came across with your name quite by chance when reading about my husband’s family.” She could lie too if she needed to. “His cousin was Sandrine Vickers… who died tragically twelve years ago.”

Del Krasinski looked genuinely surprised as if what Carol had just said was something he’d been sure would never come up again. “Now there’s a name I haven’t thought about for years…” A shadow passed the man’s face, uncertain if it should stick around for more puzzling revelations. “Sandy was a very talented performer, but like you said, she’s long gone and I see no point in speaking ill of the dead.” 

Carol found his remark odd to say the least. “I mean no harm, Mr. Krasinski. It’s her daughter we’re trying to locate. We’re her family after all.” 

Del sighed, his head bent down in reminiscence of past that had caught up with him. “Therese was a good kid… I trained her for a while”, he said.

“Was?” Carol interrupted. “Is she dead?” The question had to be asked.

“I hope not,” Del said. “Then again I really don’t know. She disappeared soon after her mother’s accident. Saw the whole thing and left for good.”

“Would Mr. Vickers know her whereabouts?” Carol asked, shaken by the horrid image of Therese witnessing her mother’s fatal fall.

Mr. Krasinski’s face darkened. “Ray Vickers is not Therese’s father nor should he be allowed to get anywhere near her ever again!” He closed his eyes briefly to retain her calm. “Look…” he continued. “When Sandy got together with that sleazeball, it all started going downhill for her - and for Therese. I tried to intervene, but she clung to that callous teamster as if her life depended on it. In a morbid way it did…” 

The man’s somber statement turned Carol’s stomach although she didn’t yet know why. “Why do you say that?” she asked quietly.

“Sandy was Ray’s meal ticket, and when she couldn’t keep up with the ridiculous training and performance schedule he had imposed on her, he either smacker her around or ‘medicated’ her with drugs… and it was that shit that killed her in the end.” The silence after the sentence was heartbreaking.

Carol wasn’t sure if she should push him for more information but in the end she didn’t have to. Mr. Krasinski had to get it off his chest. “Sandy was not herself before her last performance. She had obviously taken something. Therese tried to talk her out of going on stage but she wouldn’t hear of it. Not that she had ever had much influence on her mother’s bad decisions.” Again Del looked uneasy talking about the past at all. Their conversation was about to come to a halt. “I hope Therese is alright. I did hear a rumor that she had fallen in with a wrong crowd and gone to prison, but you know how people like to speculate.”

A tightening knot in Carol’s stomach that she hadn’t been fully aware of until now turned into a solid rock. It pressed malevolently against her organs, clearing space for its hard, greedy edges. Something of her agony must have seeped into her eyes, too, since Del Krasinski saw fit to squeeze her shoulder warmly. “Tell your husband his cousin’s daughter is a tough cookie,” he said, attempting to smile. “If anyone’s going to beat the odds, she will.”              

* * *

After meeting Mr. Krasinski, Carol tried to fit what she had just learned together with her own image of Therese. Deep down she had known that all was not as it seemed with her assistant. She had been aware of it from the very beginning yet accepted it as anyone’s right to privacy.  _ We all have our secrets, and the older we get, the more complicated they become _ . 

Although the day was far from done, it felt as if it had lasted a lifetime or at least one sad adolescence Carol had been offered a glimpse of. She wished she could go home and lovingly fuss over her daughter without having to think about what to do with the newfound knowledge. Back at work she noticed the door of Therese’s office being slightly ajar. A runaway streak of yellow light paled and scattered at the threshold like a weak welcome.  _ Not now _ , Carol thought.  _ It would be too much _ .    

Rindy’s gift, the tiny crystal Pan waited for Carol’s return on her desk. Tonight she would place this mischief maker next to the heart-clutching angel. They would make an intriguing pair, she thought, the brash god of the wild and the tender messenger of love.   


	19. Hell Is Murky

Genevieve parked her car in front of her house and got out. She was looking forward to a long, relaxing bath she hoped would restore some peace of mind that had lately gone missing. Therese had acted conspicuously aloof and she hated that.  _ Am I losing my hold of her or what the hell’s going on? _ For the past month her most skillful accomplice had mostly stayed away and kept her updates to a minimum. Sighing, she decided she would have to tighten the leash one way or another.

“The weight of the world on your shoulders…” tutted a low voice Genevieve was startled to recognize. A man she had not seen for years stepped out of the half shadow that had hidden his presence. Genevieve stared at him so silently she could almost hear the cigarette paper rustle as it burned from his drag. Her temporary paralysis seemed to amuse the man whose outward appearance was very easy on the eye. The eyes, two clear pools of blue, were his most striking feature, and had he never said a word or smirked, he might’ve been assumed a gentleman. A tiny pale dot where his upper lip joined the shaven skin marked a scar Genevieve remembered all too well. She was sure no one else ever paid attention to it, at least none other than the flattering kind, but to her it was the unerasable reminder of his unpredictability, of violence that broke loose when least expected.

“You’re so awfully tense, Gen…” he whispered, raising his big, sinewy hand to stroke the back of her neck. “I will massage it away.” The obvious pleasure the man took in his deed made Genevieve shudder. It was an involuntary reaction she could not control or hide.

“What are you doing here?” she managed to ask. “ _ Why _ are you here?” As always, the best defense was a good offense.         

“Straight to the point,” he scoffed, focusing on his half-smoked cigarette for a change. “Never a moment wasted with you. I'm here to claim what is mine.” His voice no longer mellow, he looked indignant. “All that time and you never once came to see me…” He shook his head in grave disappointment. 

The man dropped what little was left of the cigarette on the driveway and stepped on it. “Now I want a stiff drink and a nice home cooked meal,” he said, giving Genevieve a light push in the back to show him inside her palatial home. “I think I’ll stay for a while. I like it - beats Ossining,” he chuckled, enjoying her displeasure.

* * *

_ The dormitory, two hours later _

 

“I think I have it figured out.” Therese had laid the plans of the Metropolitan Museum of Art all over Abby’s desk at the dormitory. “I see it as a perfectly timed incision right after the opening. Shouldn’t be too hard when executed properly.” She sounded a bit too confident, which didn’t escape Abby.

“There’s a lot going on that night, and the guards aren’t yet set in their ways,” Abby mused out loud. “Established routines usually work in our favor, don’t you agree?” She hated to think that Therese was in for any recklessness just because she wanted the heist over and done with.

“You can certainly look at it that way, but after Richard’s visit, I wouldn’t be counting on any false sense of security on his crew's part.” For days now Therese had tried to put herself in Richard’s position, adopting what she suspected to be his professional mindset regarding the safekeeping of the Empress’ jewels. “We need it to be immediate, almost foolhardy, to succeed. And it has to happen on Richard’s watch.”    

Abby looked stunned but also impressed. “That is bold. And dangerous - but I don’t need to tell you that.” She pulled her chair closer to the prints to examine the layout more closely. “Is there something I can do? Carol’s already talked about taking Harge with her to the opening night gala, so I will be there too.”

Therese thought about Abby’s offer for a second. “I’m not sure yet. The video surveillance needs to go blind for at least thirty seconds when I make my move.” She did have an idea of how to bring it about, and even how to make it appear innocent enough at the moment when it was needed for  _ real _ .

“Is there someone behind the door?” Therese asked Abby suddenly. She was certain she had seen a figure stop by Abby’s office.

Abby didn’t waste time finding out. A young girl whom Therese had once seen carrying a laundry basket along the corridor was there looking frightened. “What is it, Kelly? Why are you skulking around my office?” Abby’s tone was sharp but it wasn’t completely without kindness.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” the girl kept repeating. “I didn’t mean to…” Kelly seemed genuinely mortified by having appeared so impolite.

“It’s alright, Kelly,” Abby interrupted, finally smiling. “Is something wrong? Just tell me.” Therese was reminded of Abby’s reassuring kindness she herself had come to know at her time.

“I have an urgent phone message from Miss Threadgoode,” Kelly managed to stammer.

_ Miss Threadgoode _ . Therese recognized it immediately as one of Genevieve’s devious aliases.

Abby avoided Therese’s sharp glance and focused on Kelly. “It’s okay. Let me hear it.”

“A woman who didn’t say her name asked me to tell you… hang on, I wrote it down…” Kelly smoothed a torn paper slip with writing on it. “ _ Miss Threadgoode asks you to do a song twice. _ ”

Therese stared at the girl. The harebrained message made no sense at all - a feeling Kelly seemed to share. “That’s it… honest… I didn’t get it wrong… that’s what the lady said…”

To Therese’s great surprise, the spoken words had a tremendous effect on Abby. Barely hiding her agitation, she rushed Kelly quickly out of the office and leaned against her desk to catch her breath.

“What the fuck’s going on, Abby?” Therese demanded to know. “You’re white as a sheet and practically shaking… What’s Genevieve gotten herself up to now?” Abby wasn’t faring well at all, and it frightened her.

“Therese, I have to go. I have to go immediately. I will tell you everything you need to know later. I promise.” Abby’s eyes darted around the room as she was figuring out what she might need with her. Just when Therese was about to object being left in the dark, Abby pulled out a gun from one of the drawers and put it in her handbag.

“Jesus, Abby…” she gasped. “You have to tell me!” Therese had never seen Abby packing a gun before nor could she imagine her ever using one.

“Trust me, Therese,” Abby said, taking pains to sound convincing. “I must deal with this first.” She practically leapt out of her office, leaving a flabbergasted Therese behind.

* * *

Abby’s heart was racing as she walked up to the front door of Genevieve’s manor. She had parked her car further down the road in order not to draw unnecessary attention to her arrival. The message Genevieve had sent her continued to make her sick:  _ to do a song twice _ meant only one thing -  _ Sing Sing _ \- and Abby knew all too well  _ whom _ the notorious place referred to.

The house seemed quiet, which Abby found unnerving. Without a key there was only little she could do at the moment, so she had to ring the doorbell. For a long time, she couldn’t detect a movement of any kind inside, and she had all but run out of patience when a discrete sound of footsteps finally reached the door. Abby clutched the gun inside her coat pocket, aware of her total unpreparedness to face whatever nastiness awaited inside.  

“Oh, it’s you…” Genevieve said, exhaling. She had opened the door just a tad, but seeing Abby, she let her in.

“Where is he?” Abby asked, keeping her voice steady. The gun felt cumbersome against her damp palm. “I told him that if he ever came back, I’d kill him.” Acknowledging out loud what she had once vowed to do had a curious effect on her - it almost calmed her down.

“He’s not here right now.” Genevieve locked the door. “Went to a poker game or something…” She grabbed Abby’s arm as they moved to the parlor. “But he will be back.”

Abby felt lightheaded. Only a second ago she had been ready to use the revolver, but now as her adrenaline rush was dissipating the whole meaning of her first impulse flooded her true self. Abby was not a killer, and Genevieve knew it, but there were things -  _ people _ \- in this life she would kill to protect.

“I will wait for him then,” Abby said simply.

“He’s not stupid. And we’re not the only ones who know that he’s back. It’s Jimmy Three Fingers’ card game he went to.” Sighing, Genevieve sat down on an ornate Rococo chair and rested her head against the foliate relief on its top rail. “I sent Michelle away as soon as he showed up. Good help is so hard to find.”

It wasn’t very often that Genevieve was kind or nice, and even now Abby couldn’t tell if her taking pity on her cook fell into either of those categories. Surely she had spared the girl from an excruciating amount of abuse and by doing so had focused his attention all the more potently on herself instead. ‘Kind’ and ‘nice’ were Abby’s attributes but what good had they ever done to her? At least  _ now _ she was carrying her own weight, determined to do away with the nightmare that had set them on this particular, perilous path.  Yet Abby knew that although he’d provided them with the ways and means, they themselves had created the hell.  _ Will these hands ne’er be clean? _

Neither of them had said his name as if speaking it would grant him superhuman powers, but it hung in the air between them like a bubble of poison gas.  _ Ray Vickers _ . Or  _ Ray the Wicked _ , as Abby had come to call him. Almost a decade ago he’d been put away - for good, she and Genevieve had thought. Yet here he was again.     

“So are we to do nothing then?” Abby asked. “Sit around and wait for him to ruin everything… and  _ everybody?  _ ” With everybody she meant only one person - Therese.

“Of course not!” Genevieve shot back. She was retaining her old spirit that had no tolerance for fools or snap judgments. “I will deal with him when the time is right.” Sensing Abby’s disbelief urged her to continue. “We stand to lose so much if we start messing things up now.”

It did little to assuage Abby. “Therese needs to know. We can’t keep this from her, not while she’s about to risk everything for the sake of those jewels…”

Genevieve didn’t want to hear any of it. “Are you mad? We can’t tell her! What do you think will happen when she finds out what  _ really _  took place ten years ago?”

At the moment Abby couldn’t have cared less. “She has a right to know.”

Genevieve glared at Abby as if what she’d just said was the most stupid thing she’d ever heard. “If I don’t know where she is I won’t be able to protect her.” Now there was a sentence Abby had never expected to hear from her.         

“And you’ve done such a brilliant job of looking after her interests…” Abby scoffed without thinking it first. “Her stepfather, the sonofabitch who not only ruined her and her mother’s life but also framed her for manslaughter, is back in town, but somehow you’re able to tell yourself that her not knowing about it is in her best interest. How do you do that?” The ugliness of it all disgusted Abby more than ever before.     

The same thing happened with Genevieve that always did in the moments like this. She hardened herself to the point that she no longer resembled a susceptible, sensitive human being. Genevieve put up walls, unsurpassable and immoderate, designed to fend off all allegations no matter how reasonable they were to start out with. Whatever Abby would say from this point on would be like water off a duck’s back. “I said I will deal with it,” sounded off her steely reply, and it left no doubt in Abby’s mind that  she  herself would be dealt with as well if she were to interfere with Genevieve's plan.

* * *

_ Genevieve’s place, two hours earlier _

 

“You’ve done good,” Ray Vickers complimented Genevieve, washing down the last piece of a huge ribeye steak with a greedy slug of her hostess’ priciest single malt. He let his eyes wander around the dining room, appraising everything with an easy eye of an auctioneer. “A bit pretentious, but then again it befits you.” He pushed his plate further away from him and fished a cigarette out of a pack he had waiting on the table. “So the kid doesn’t live with you?” he said more as a statement than a question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Genevieve replied. “I have no idea what you think is going on here, but whatever it is you are sorely mistaken…” Her outburst was cut short.

“Come, come now…” Ray chided her. “Do you really think I don’t know what you two have been up to all these years?” He swirled his whiskey, watching how the strong liquor coated the thick glass. “Remember Olivia?” He knew very well that Genevieve hadn’t forgotten the girl who had played an instrumental role in getting Therese arrested. “She’s my wife now…” He let the news sink in before continuing. “When I couldn’t be with you, I took what was on offer… conjugal visits and all, you know?” His delight in Genevieve’s astonishment was evident. “She is a fast learner, too. Just like you were... And she’s been my eyes and ears outside the pen.”

Genevieve poured herself a straight vodka. The simplicity of an unassuming yet potent drink might just be the thing she needed to unclutter her frayed mind. It also bought her much needed time to come up with a solid answer that wouldn’t sound like an outright lie.

Ray, however, wasn’t going to wait for her explanation. “When I gave Therese to you, I fully expected to profit…”

Genevieve raised her eyes from her glass, infuriated by what she’d just heard. “When  _ you _ gave Therese to me..? she started, unable to hide her anger. “I took her in and gave her a second chance, no thanks to you!”

Ray’s attitude took a nasty turn. “I tipped you off, knowing you’d latch greedily on a juicy find, and you’ve been feeding off of your precious cat burglar ever since!” He threw the near-empty tumbler on the wall to prove a point he was certain she would get. “I just want what’s mine,” he continued, resuming his former calm. “And I will take her too - as interest.”  

Ray got up, bored by what he deemed an unnecessary rebellion. “Jimmy’s got a game waiting, and I feel like cleaning the guys out.” Before heading to the door, he approached Genevieve and drew her close - too close. “Don’t be like that... “ Ray whispered to her. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I? And I always will, even if I’m a married man,” he said, grinning.

Genevieve held her breath, hoping he would go and leave her in peace. She thought of her father and how badly he had treated her, and how she had been unable not to let the pattern repeat itself with Ray. “Go fuck yourself, Ray...” she mumbled back.

Her defiance only amused him. “I’ve always loved your gutsiness, dear sister…” His coarse laughter echoed in the hall long after the front door had closed behind him.


	20. The Dance We Do

“Well, well, well…” Genevieve smiled, greeting Carol from the doorway of her office. “I’ve just seen the brand new posters and the banners, and I must say it’s looking very good!” She waltzed in, clearly pleased with the manner the upcoming exhibition was being taken care of.

 “I’m glad you approve,” Carol acknowledged, slightly put off by Lady Cantrell’s unexpected visit. As far as she was concerned, most of the work still lay ahead. The opening was only a few weeks away, and several serious issues had to be resolved until champagne glasses could be lined up for any celebratory toasts. “But I won’t be breathing easily until those coveted jewels have arrived here safely.”

Scoffing, Genevieve waved her reservations aside. “Carol darling, the contracts have been signed and the French have given the green light,” she reminded her curator. “And I haven’t been informed about any glitches in the security either, have you?”

Carol shook her head. “No, it’s all being arranged as we speak. When those treasures finally get here, all the alarm systems should be up and running.” Richard Semco had paid her far too many visits lately, introducing her to the finer points of his master plan.

“There you go!” Genevieve laughed. “No reason to worry about anything. No reason whatsoever.” Lady Cantrell was in a terrific mood, which Carol found a bit too much to be entirely believable. Then again who was she to judge her boss’ sunny demeanor? As long as she wasn’t unhappy, that’s all that counted.

“By the way, have the details of our side of the transport been finalised?” Genevieve inquired offhandedly while admiring the newly printed brochure on Carol’s desk.

“You mean the drive from the JFK to the Met?” Carol asked. She was surprised that a member of the board should trouble herself with a matter of simple logistics. “I suppose we will use the same armored car service as we’ve always done in cases such as this.” The idea didn’t seem to go down well with Lady Cantrell. “Or do you have a better idea?” Carol continued, noticing her apparent displeasure.

“It’s just that some of the board members feel that this time we might opt for another company…” Genevieve started, still browsing the leaflet. “Bad blood or something... boys and their toys, you know.”

Lady Cantrell’s vague explanation puzzled Carol and not least because she couldn’t think of anyone else in the board who would've given a rat’s ass whether the Empress’ jewels were brought over in a four-wheeled safe or on the back of a donkey. “If you think that we’ll have to look for another service provider, then of course we will…” _Great, another headache to an already gruesome workload_ , flashed through Carol’s mind.

“As a matter of fact I think I can recommend a service,” Genevieve said right away. “As soon as I heard about this stupid little… conflict of interest… I took the liberty of checking out the competition. If you like, I’ll be happy to introduce you to the company’s liaison?” Her mouth curved into a smile that her eyes were not following. “Would tomorrow at lunch be okay? We’ll go downtown. You could use a change of scenery even if for just an hour.”

Lady Cantrell was making a big deal out of this, Carol thought, but she did appreciate not having to spend extra time interviewing potential candidates for this short yet important undertaking. “Of course. Whatever you say.”   

* * *

Abby took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. She wasn’t sure what she was about to do, but she knew she had to do something.

After a few minutes Dannie opened the door, wearing a faded t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts with pink bunnies printed on them. “Hey… Therese is not in,” he said, yawning.

“I know,” Abby said, walking by her drowsy friend who’d been caught in the middle of his afternoon nap. “I came to see you.”

Dannie followed her to the kitchen, scratching the back of his head, still half asleep. “That’s new,” he chuckled, somewhat nerved by her words. “Came to check up on me, huh?” he asked, feigning lightness that convinced nobody.

“I came to talk to you about Therese,” Abby said. “I know you two are close and there’s something I think you need to be aware of. Can I trust you?”

Abby’s question took Dannie by surprise. No one had ever asked him that, and he had given up hope long ago that anyone ever would. He knew that he had only himself to blame, being an ex-con and a former drug addict. No matter how long he’d been clean, his past was still a proof enough of his hopelessness as a trustworthy human being. He hadn’t even minded it, but hearing Abby’s question was nevertheless stirring to him. “Yeah, of course,” he replied, motioning Abby to take a seat across the table from him.                       

“What do you know about Therese’s life before you two met?” Abby asked not caring to beat around the bush.

“Not much. Only bits and pieces,” Dannie admitted. “I know that her that mom was a trapeze artist or something and that she died in a performance-related accident.”

Abby nodded. Even if Sandrine’s plunge had nothing to do with a trapeze, Dannie seemed to know the gist of it. “Anything else?” she inquired, not expecting to find all that much.

“Her father was a Czech-born airline pilot who lost his life in a plane crash,” Dannie continued, encouraged by Abby’s confirmation of his prior knowledge.

“He was an Armenian marine biologist who died while scuba diving in the Antilles…” Abby started before realizing the weird similitude between their stories. “I suppose it’s safe to say we know nothing about his father,” she concluded, visibly amused.

“We never talked about the past,” Dannie said wistfully. “I guess we just wanted to leave it behind…” He looked sad, and once again Abby remembered how very little Dannie and Therese knew about what she and Genevieve knew about _them_.

“Did Therese ever talk to you about anyone in her mother’s life?” Abby asked, leaning toward him.

“No, I don’t think so… why do you ask?” Dannie wanted to know.

“Well, Dannie my boy, it just happens that her past is catching up with her, and I don’t know what to do with the information I now have.” Somewhere along the line, and it must have happened quite recently, Abby had lost her ability to lie, so there it was - the awful truth. “You do know that she’s been shielding you all these years, don’t you?” she asked him.

Dannie did know. Maybe not always consciously but deep down he had always been aware of Therese’s unwavering support and love that had kept him from the ultimate ruin. Without her he would have slipped into the abyss again and again, but every time that he had faced his weakness, she had pulled him back and restored life in him. “Yes.”

The calmness of his simple answer filled Abby with confidence. “She can’t go ahead with the heist. If she does, she will be caught by someone much more evil than Genevieve. And this person will be the end of her, there is no doubt in my mind about it.”

Dannie looked at Abby, frightened yet uncharacteristically level-headed. “Why can’t you tell her yourself?” he asked. “She’s your friend too.”

Any other time Dannie’s remark would’ve been plenty enough to open the dam of Abby’s suppressed regrets, but now she swallowed her pain to make him see more clearly what had to be done. “Dannie… I’m no better than Genevieve,” she started. “In many ways I’m much worse than her.” Even though she hadn't abused Therese and Dannie herself, she had let it happen. In the end it had been her friendship, no matter how truly she had cared for both of them, that had enabled Genevieve's wicked acts.       

Dannie didn’t understand, for he was as fond of Abby as anyone who is endlessly hungry for love and affection the rest of the world had withheld from him. “Don’t say that… remember the night we had together… we’ll all be fine,” he insisted, holding onto the memory of his bonding with both Therese and Abby after _Sine Causa_. It had had a semblance of real happiness for him.

Abby’s smile was dejected. “Therese has the means to get you both out of here, and she should before it’s too late.” She grabbed Dannie’s hand to stress her point. “She won’t listen to me, but if _you_ say that you want to get out _now_ _with her_ , she will make it happen.”

Dannie didn’t know how to respond to her eager plea. A part of him understood Abby’s fear, and that compartment of her heart was ready to act on it. But what Abby couldn’t know was that Dannie had never initiated a thing in his life; that essentially he would always remain a piece of driftwood waiting for a current to show him the way.         

* * *

It was almost noon, and the staff of the museum was looking forward to the lunch hour. A lone figure was standing in the middle of the floor of a room that was being stripped down of the artwork that had graced its walls only moments ago. The woman, for there was no mistaking the person for anything else, was in striking contrast to her surroundings since she was the only stationery object among the busy maintenance crew that paid no attention to her.

Carol had been looking at her for quite some time, and she was in no hurry to have the woman turn around and see her. Therese was a welcome sight even from behind, the coiffed brown hair at shoulder-length and her arms at ease by her sides. Display cases were being dragged out and fresh paint applied to the surfaces of the already cleared walls, but the noise seemed to have no effect on her. Therese both was and wasn’t in the room, which fascinated Carol.

After a while Carol joined Therese, too curious not to find out what had captivated her mind so entirely. “Hello,” she said, afraid she would not be welcome. Her fear was unnecessary.

“Hello,” Therese replied with a smile that made Carol forget the din around them. “I had to come here one more time before everything is taken away.” Seeing a huge colorful print of a meticulously preened warrior on its way out made her sigh. “I absolutely loved this exhibition,” she offered as her quiet explanation.

“It’s always sad to see something good being dismantled,” Carol said. “We work so long and hard to capture some essence or idea of humanity only to have it replaced with what comes next.”

“And in between there is this moment of nothingness, of bare white walls and empty spaces.” Therese must have thought about it when she thought no one was watching, Carol mused.  

“In a way it’s refreshing,” Carol said. “It lets you see what can be done, what the space allows you to do. It’s hard to picture something new in the midst of old clutter.”

Therese looked at Carol, an inscrutable edge in her eyes. “It’s terrifying to give up what you’ve grown accustomed to.”

“Of course,” Carol admitted, daring to look back just as intensely as Therese had. “But how else are we to move forward?” It was crystal clear to both of them that they were no longer talking about exhibitions, yet neither of them was willing to venture further than that.

“It’ll be hard for me to think of this room as anything else than belonging to the brave nomads,” Therese said changing the subject. A maintenance man in blue overalls was currently removing the main wall label stating “The Wodabe - The People of the Taboo”.

Carol picked up a laminated exhibition note left still lying around. _“Like birds in the bush, we never settle down, and we leave no trace of our passage…”_ she read out loud. “Sounds like poetry, yet their gruelling life is far from poetic.”

Surprised, Therese glanced at her. “I don’t agree. I find their customs very poetic,” she pointed out. “The way they court while looking for a partner, the beauty and the dancing - the bias still being on the charm, personality and magnetism of the potential beloved.” Carol didn't have to look to know that Therese was grinning.

“Did you read the part in the exhibition catalogue where it said that the couples can’t hold hands in broad daylight?” Carol asked, keeping her own eyes still glued on the brochure.

“Or talk in a personal way.” Therese added. “Love happens in the dark…” Maybe she hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it was too late now. Carol had heard her alright.

“You think so?” Carol asked, emboldened by the moment that seemed to encapsulate everything all at once. “They may also steal wives from their husbands during the dance they do…” Right now her courage knew no bounds even though her motive for saying it clashed against her better judgment.  

Therese turned to Carol, too stunned to remain secretive. Her fervent wish and the impulse to follow it through were both out in the open, but she hadn’t been the one who had put it there. _What is it that you would like to steal_ _?_   Carol had asked her in the restaurant. Therese had known the answer then, and she knew it now. She was standing in the bright light of the day, but she didn’t hesitate to admit it to herself once more.    

Neither of them had noticed the people managing their chores getting scarce until there was no one left except the two of them. Maybe that’s why what happened next came to them as such a huge surprise: the lights were turned off for the lunch hour and the room sank into abrupt darkness. Only the marked exits lent their shimmer to their unexpected privacy. 

The ensuing silence grew heavy, only the escape routes shining their green approval into the traffic of their minds. A tender touch on her hip made Therese aware of Carol’s immediate approach, but she had no time to think about the question it posed when she already gave her answer. She pulled Carol close and pressed her lips against her mouth with the certainty of someone who needs only stars and the moon to navigate the sleepy depths of the sea. Therese tasted Carol, and out of the prolonged contact grew a communion sweeter than she had dared to dream.

The kiss spread through Carol like wildfire, Therese’s firm grip fanning its flames higher than she had thought possible. Yet what was scorched in her only became more vibrant and alive with each second and every breath they were lucky to share. The urgency intensified, and the need to have even more escalated, spilling out in strained sobs. Carol had waited for this for so long, and now as it was happening, she was palpably aware that she wanted everything else that came with it, too. She drew in the air that was Therese, filling her nostrils with her scent that bore a vague resemblance to something she couldn’t yet pinpoint.

Therese sensed the rise in Carol and it made her happier than she had ever been. She was euphoric, still holding Carol tight and kissing her, but she also knew that what had commenced could not be taken further in a room that would all too soon be busy with the returning workers. “Not here,” Therese whispered to Carol’s ear. “Easy, sweetheart…”

The scent and the words mingled - 

It was right then and there that Carol remembered.


	21. Crushed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst alert... should anyone need it... ;-)
> 
> It'll get better - soon.

A wormhole created by just a couple of words and the dusky scent led Carol straight back to her own bedroom as it had been only a few weeks ago.  _ The odd night following the dinner with Lady Cantrell. _ The voices she had assumed a figment of her imagination returned vividly, opening the secrets her mind had hidden.  _ “Easy… here… sweetheart…” _ It was Therese who’d been in her room that night, speaking the words, perfuming the air.

Panicking, Carol got lost between the two conflicting realities. The perfect kiss became perfectly strange, and the lost light she had blessed only a moment ago no longer felt like safety. Extricating herself from the heavy embrace, Carol knew she’d have to either fight or flight, and since she didn’t know what she was up against, she chose to flee. Therese’s words replayed in her brain over and over again as she took a step backward, then another, until her feet finally got the message and sped out of reach.

Carol ran all the way back to her office without stopping, not caring if anyone wondered why her hair was mussed up and her eyes wide with anguish. She locked the door behind her, hoping she’d still find the bottle of rye stashed behind the books in the bookcase. Her hands were shaking as she poured a drink, and she almost dropped the bottle on the floor when a series of knocks landed against her door. Carol stayed silent, listening.

“Carol?” Therese asked cautiously. Carol could hear her easily through the door, yet she made no attempt to reveal her presence in the room. “Carol…” the pleading voice repeated. “Please let me in.”

Out of breath, Carol took hold of the side of her desk without noticing her appointment book that was teetering on the brink of it. It fell on the floor loudly enough.

“Carol,” Therese spoke again. “I don’t know what happened but  _ please _ let’s talk about it.” Carol could hear her shifting nervously behind the door. “Sweetheart…” the voice started, and it was way too much for Carol.

“Go away.” Carol could hardly recognize her own voice. It was the voice of an angry, wounded animal. “Leave me alone.” She needed time to think, to really figure this out.

Therese said nothing, and for a long time Carol thought she was still waiting behind the locked door, hoping she would change her mind. But she wasn’t going to, not now, so she decided to wait until Therese was gone. 

A half an hour later Carol opened the door, half expecting to find Therese there. Unbeknownst to her, Therese had obeyed her direct order immediately. Too many incidents had taught Carol’s assistant that when life said no, there was no room for negotiation.

* * *

Therese walked out, confused and dazed. The wild hope that had sustained her during all these months was fading fast. She felt oddly at peace with it, as if she’d dodged a bullet that would’ve shattered everything she had come to know about herself. Conveniently she chose to forget that it had been her plan to begin with; that she had embraced the idea of starting anew with someone who not only understood her past but also what the promise of a better future could hold for the both of them.

_ I have been asleep and dreaming _ , Therese decided.  _ There is no second act for someone like me _ . She wanted to go home to Dannie, to spend time in his laid-back company.  _ I must be mad _ . They would have a couple of shots of vodka and then go out together to forget  _ everything _ for one carefree night.  _ It’s you and me against the world _ , she had told Dannie so many times, and right now she longed to repeat the ritual. 

“What are you doing here this early?” Dannie asked, seeing Therese enter the apartment. In his opinion the afternoon had already been far too busy. 

Therese wasn’t too keen to hear his disgruntled welcome, but she chose not to pay any attention to it. “How about getting properly sloshed? It’s been way too long since we last did it.”         

Dannie wasn’t fooled by her easy proposition. Something was off although Therese did her best to cover it. “What’s going on, T?” he asked, stopping her from pulling the frosted bottle out of the freezer. 

“Nothing’s going on,” Therese replied, unable to hide her irritation. “I just want some good old-fashioned anaesthesia to kick in, that’s all,” she attempted to lighten up. But the damage was already done. 

“I don’t like the way you are right now.” It was quite exceptional of Dannie to be this outspoken, but Abby’s visit had had an undeniable impact on him.   

Therese stopped dead in her tracks, her shoulders stiffening out of anger. “A lot of  _ that _ going around lately…” she scoffed, slamming the freezer door shut. “I must be on a roll.” She picked up her bag, the one she had thought she could forget for the rest of the day, and returned to the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.” She wasn’t going to wait around for anything else Dannie might want to get off his chest. There was one place where she would be welcome though, and right now it seemed all she had left.

* * *

“This was a nice surprise…” Genevieve murmured to Therese’s bare back after what she thought had been an an exceptionally gratifying hour of sex. “Although when I saw you at the door, you looked like you wanted to strangle me instead.”

Therese turned to her stomach, her elbows denting the mattress. “Is there a difference?” she asked, placing a cigarette between her lips and lighting it. Genevieve’s finger was drawing a long line from between her shoulder blades all the way down to her crack. It lingered there for a while but resisted venturing any lower. 

“I suppose not,” Genevieve said, surprising Therese with rare honesty. “I guess it’s what defines us. We both prefer direct action to, say, kissing…” she added, winking at her.

“Why is that?” Therese asked against her better judgment. “What’s wrong with kissing?” Her question sounded peculiarly stubborn to Genevieve.

“You’re in a funny mood, aren’t you?” Genevieve teased her. “I can kiss you if you want me to. It’s not a big deal.” She removed her hand from Therese’s butt and placed it behind the back of her neck instead. “You want to get wet with my tongue in your mouth?” she whispered, leaning closer. “I’ll make it even better for you…” Genevieve continued. “I’ll fuck you with my finger at the same time and drive you absolutely crazy.” 

The almost immediate sensation of Genevieve’s finger jolted Therese. The hard mouth on hers felt all wrong, but the skillful repetition between her thighs proved too much. Soon she was tightening around the bold digit, hopelessly seduced by the lusty arrogance that knew only one kind of a release. 

Afterwards Therese felt bereft of something resembling dignity. Her own body’s betrayal was nearly enough to crush her. She thought about crying, how appropriate and devastating it would be right now. It took all her strength not to succumb to it, not to let Genevieve see how upset she was. For the first time since hearing Carol’s command to go away, Therese allowed herself to think about what had really happened in the darkness. What had she done to make Carol reject her like that? Hadn’t she wanted the kiss, too? And kissing  _ was _ a big deal, no matter what Genevieve or anyone else claimed.   

Unaware of Therese’s musings, Genevieve was enjoying herself. “Darling, I’ve been thinking…” she started, not noticing anything out of the ordinary in her naked companion. “You and Dannie should move out of that dingy apartment to be able to better focus on the job.” Truth be told, Genevieve wanted Therese out of there because she suspected that Ray knew her current address. Besides, right now she was feeling exceptionally generous toward Therese. “How would like to stay in a fancy hotel instead?” she suggested, smiling. “Room service 24/7 and all other perks...” 

Therese shrugged. “Which are you? A part of the service or a perk?” she asked rather rudely.

“I think we’d better keep seeing each other here in the dorm,” Genevieve said, ignoring her questionable remark. “And I’d prefer you two not shooting off your mouth about the new digs either. When it’s time for you to make your move, you’ll both appreciate the privacy.”  

It made sense to Therese, and she welcomed the idea of a hotel accommodation. An impersonal, uninteresting room was just what she wanted after the disappointments of the day.    

* * *

Carol was still shaken by her epiphany when she returned to home. Her mood took a turn for worse when she noticed Rindy talking to Abby in the living room. Abby had greeted her the morning after Genevieve’s dinner, admonishing her for her drunken behavior.  _ Abby _ …

If Therese had been in the room, Abby must’ve let her in. That was the only logical explanation. The extent of Abby’s betrayal - for what else could it be under any circumstances? - was a dizzying discovery to Carol’s frayed nerves.  _ I am nursing a snake under my bosom _ . 

“Hi mom,” Rindy greeted Carol. She looked so happy talking to her father’s nurse, it nearly broke Carol’s heart.

“Hey,” Carol acquiesced to say. She avoided looking at Abby. “I have the most terrible headache, and I think I will go straight to bed…” she mumbled.

“Want me to rub your shoulders?” Abby volunteered, getting up from her chair.

“No, no, no…” Carol hastened to interrupt. “I just need a good night’s sleep and I’ll be alright.” Ascending the stairs, a thought occurred to her. “Rindy, will you come by my room for a sec… I’d like to talk to you about something.” Her daughter was the only one she could confide in, Carol thought, and she knew her to be calm and level-headed. 

“Sure, mom. I’ll be right up.” Rindy’s smile soothed Carol’s mind, making her feel slightly better.          

* * *

After an hour had passed, Rindy returned to the living room. She had given her mother a pill to sleep, and now she expected to get some answers. Abby had gone to put Harge to bed but when she came back and found Rindy leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, she knew instantly that something was not right.

“You are fucking everything up,” Rindy stated coldly. “When I saw what was going on in here, I thought it was for both of their advantage, and yours too, but I sure as hell didn’t expect you to abuse my mother’s trust.” 

Abby’s startled expression made Rindy only angrier. “Don’t play coy with me, Miss Gerhard. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t check up on you after my mom said she had found a nurse who was willing to take care of my father for less than a half of the regular cost?” She scoffed, seeing Abby’s continued astonishment. “You had never done a day’s work as a nurse before setting your foot in this house. I contemplated telling her about it, but when I saw how  _ happy _ she was to have you around and quite clearly in her bed, too, I let it slide.” 

Abby didn’t say a word but the look on her face spoke volumes. The jig was up. 

“I guess you could say that I gave you the benefit of the doubt,“ Rindy went on. “But you bringing playmates here in the dead of night will never be a part of that deal.”

Her eyes cast down, Abby realized she would have to tell Rindy the truth. Or a reasonable semblance of one. “ _ She loves Carol _ . Of that I am absolutely certain, and she was here that night because she had rescued your mother from a fate worse than death.” Abby fell silent but only for a very short moment. “Well, at least I think so.”

_ She _ . Rindy had met her and liked her, too. Even though  _ she _ had obviously never been to Wattens in any professional capacity. Rindy had known it the minute Therese had replied to her question about  _ Norman _ . Yes, Therese had liked  _ him _ very much. If only  _ Jessye Norman _  - who had given an unforgettable performance at the Crystal Worlds - were a man instead of a voluptuous, angel-voiced diva. Rindy hadn’t mentioned the clumsy lie to Carol, at least not yet, because to her it had been more than evident that the two of them shared something truly special. “What the hell are you talking about?” Rindy asked, her voice laced with understandable disbelief.

Abby knew she was at Rindy’s mercy, and she understood that were she to say an unmeasured word, to strike a wrong chord at all,  Rindy would put an end to everything far too hastily and thus jeopardize everyone involved, even herself. “Your mother was about to be blackmailed, and Therese found it out. A particularly nasty attempt at a shakedown. Therese explained it to me when she brought your mother home that night. She had intervened at the last minute, pulling her out from the lion’s den. Your mother was severely drugged and Therese wanted to make sure no harm would come to her that night, but she also didn’t want Carol to know about it. Nothing improper happened, you have to believe me!” Abby pleaded with Rindy.

Rindy didn’t know what to believe. “Who planned it?” she asked icily.

This was the follow-up question Abby had known to dread, but she had no way of avoiding answering. “One of your mother’s bosses…”

Rindy had no time to play games. “I want a name.”

The years, the entire decades of conning people, of making them believe that whatever shady was happening to them was for their own good, finally paid off. “I don’t know,” Abby said, looking Rindy straight into the eyes. “You will have to ask Therese, because she wouldn’t tell me.”   

* * *

When Abby left that night, she wanted to believe that her story had put Rindy’s mind at ease. But no matter how much she liked to think that a disaster had been presently avoided, the old premonition of time running out took over her in one swoop that had no silver lining. All of them were merely floating in shark-infested waters, Abby having so far been the only one urging others to seek safety. She knew she was going about it all wrong, but her loyalty to Genevieve still weighed too much on the scale.

Unlocking her door in the dorm, Abby noticed Therese leaving Genevieve’s room. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why she was there at such a late hour, and normally Abby would’ve done her best to put it out of her mind. This time, in the light of everything that she knew had happened between Therese and Carol and between her and Rindy, Abby reacted differently. The earlier decision to tell Therese about Carol’s nightly recollection seemed suddenly ill-advised. Imagining what had taken place in Genevieve's room while _she_ had defended Therese to Rindy made Abby bitter and spiteful.  _ You stupid girl… go ahead, reap what you sow _ .


	22. The Girls

The next morning Carol wasted no time getting ready for work. She was practically sitting by the front door when Abby got in. Carol didn’t want to talk to her or even look at her before she had made up her mind about how to handle what she had come to know. Abby, on the other hand, seemed eager to have her stay.

“Carol, please…” Abby said. “Do you honestly have to leave this early? I _really_ need to talk to you.” She sounded desperate, which further irritated Carol. She remained adamant. Nothing good would come out of any conversation, were they to get into one before she was ready.

“No,” Carol refused curtly. “Later.” Work seemed like the best antidote for the poison she was now tasting, even if it meant running into Therese. She wasn’t a stranger to acting professional and keeping her distance, Carol consoled herself, and she would make damn sure not to end up in a room alone with _her._

Her schedule for the morning was hectic enough to make the hours fly by faster than she had expected. When Carol remembered the lunch appointment with Lady Cantrell and the representative of the transportation company, she was less than thrilled. It seemed like a waste of time to go all the way to a French brasserie in SoHo when they could have very well met in the Roof Garden Bar instead. _She wasn’t kidding about changing the scenery_ , Carol mused. When she finally reached _Balthazar_ on Spring Street, she was nevertheless pleased to be there.

The place was unbelievably busy with no free table in sight. Carol looked around, not recognizing a single soul. She had arrived in time, she reassured herself, wondering if she should give Lady Cantrell a call.

“Carol! Over here!” Smiling, Genevieve Cantrell waved at her from behind a column that partly blocked the view to her table. Relieved, Carol made her way to greet her. As promised, she wasn’t alone but with a man who politely stood up as Carol was about to join them.

Carol couldn’t tell if the man was really handsome or not, for she found it impossible not to pay all her attention to his steady gaze that seemed to penetrate her professional reserve. She had never seen eyes that blue before. Smiling, he seemed to catch her confusion.

“Hello,” he said, extending her hand to Carol. The handshake was kind yet firm. “How nice of you to find time in your busy schedule to hear my proposal, Mrs. Aird.” He pulled out a chair for Carol who was grateful to sit down and hide her temporary embarrassment.

Before the man had a chance to continue, Lady Cantrell intervened. “Oh, please, let’s not be so formal,” she said. “Carol, this is Raymond - Raymond, Carol is in charge of the exhibition, so it's not me but her you need to convince of your professional prowess.” Genevieve spoke hastily, aiming her words inclusively at Carol.

Carol glanced at Raymond, wondering if he was still watching her as keenly as he had only a minute ago. He wasn’t. “So tell me... why should we pick your service out of all the other candidates?” she asked him to be on top of things again.

Raymond looked pleased to get straight to the point. “My company comes with the best credentials regarding the kind of work you need. We’ve provided services to a number of local jewelers, Tiffany Co being just one of them. All our cars have three occupants - a driver who won’t leave the vehicle until it returns to the garage and two trained, armed guards who take care of the pick-up and delivery.” He opened up a folded brochure he had brought with him. “I propose we use one of these…” he said, the fingers of his right hand singling out what Carol thought was a sturdy looking safety truck. “With an armored shell and cab, this model is customized on a basic van chassis, and it will thwart any attempts at robbery and hijacking.” Raymond let Carol study the brochure on her own. “There’s not a handgun or a rifle that can penetrate this glass,” he stated.

“It’s only a short drive from the airport, yet you make it sound so dramatic,” Carol pointed out. She wasn’t at all convinced that such an effort was needed in their case.

“The devil is in the detail, Mrs. Aird,” Raymond said, the corners of his mouth curving up. “If there was one thing I learned as a Boy Scout it was that one can never be too prepared.”

Lady Cantrell coughed abruptly. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I swallowed too big a sip of water…” Her face was red as she was trying to breathe normally.

“I thought it was God that’s in the detail?” Carol chuckled. Raymond’s phrasing was somewhat unfamiliar to her.

“God or devil - take your pick,” Raymond smiled. “I think the point remains that when you want the job done properly, you can’t afford taking unnecessary chances.

The lunch was served, and Carol found her new acquaintance both charming and competent. While forking a plate of pan-seared skate, she enjoyed listening to how Raymond had single-handedly built the company he was now proud to call his own. _Who knew the armored car racket could be so interesting_ _?_ Carol thought, taking a sip of her wine.

The man’s stories were laced with colorful characters like that fellow Ned “who had minded the store” while he had taken a leave of absence to learn more about the national scene of his chosen business. And he wasn’t just interested in talking about himself either. Raymond was courteous and attentive, asking Carol about her work, commending her for her past achievements. Even though his tastes lacked the back-up of formal education, he had developed a certain fondness for art. He had several favorites and a special soft spot for the works of Hieronymus Bosch, he confided in Carol.     

Lady Cantrell remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout the lunch. She hardly touched her meal, focusing on ordering two cocktails and an extra bottle of wine. Raymond wasn’t much of a drinker, Carol noticed. His wine glass was practically untouched, which she deemed a good sign for someone in such a serious business.

All in all, the meeting went extremely well, and when Lady Cantrell suggested they could very well finalize the contract right then and there, Carol didn’t balk at the idea. After all, Genevieve had done the background check on the man, and Carol herself had found him not only riveting but also trustworthy. _He’s a gentleman, a rare breed these days_ , she thought, writing her name on the dotted line. Just as she was about to hand the contract back to Lady Cantrell, Raymond’s obscure signature caught her attention.

“I’m sorry…” Carol smiled, surprised by what she only now realized. “I don't think I caught your full name?” She looked apologetic, hoping her oversight wouldn’t be interpreted as a lack of appreciation on her part.

“How rude of me,” Raymond said. “I should be the one to apologize.” Again he looked Carol straight into the eyes. “It’s Vickers, Raymond Vickers.” The blue intensified, turned to ice. “But please, call me Ray.”   

* * *

How Carol found her way back to her office, she wasn’t sure. _Where to?_   the cab driver had asked her, and evidently she had remembered where she worked. Somehow she had managed to maintain her calm when her feeling good had come to a screeching halt. The glasses of wine she had indulged in revealed their belated effect, mocking her carelessness, her succumbing to the discreet flattery that had obviously had only one goal in mind - to get her to sign that damn piece of paper.

 _Ray Vickers is not Therese’s father nor should he be allowed to get anywhere near her ever again._ Del Krasinski’s fierce statement came back to haunt Carol. _What have I done?_ she questioned herself. _What in heaven’s name have I gotten myself into?_ There was no pretending that this man she had just met could be anyone else than the one and the same. And now she had let him in, practically opened the door to Therese’s life and to God knows what else.  

Only a few hours earlier Carol had been fuming with anger, certain of having been betrayed by both Therese and Abby. Now she found herself slouching in the chair behind her desk, her thoughts in total disarray. When she wasn’t panicking over what had just happened, her mind drifted to the kiss she had thoroughly enjoyed right up to the moment of her regained memory.

Carol hadn’t bothered to turn on the light, for sitting in the dark felt appropriate. She had been left in the dark on purpose, yet she wondered if the darkness she knew was still less solid than the one Therese was dealing with. At least Carol knew the players even if she didn’t know the game. _Therese, Abby, Lady Cantrell_. The crystal Pan smirked at her from his corner of the desk. He was mocking her for taking such a long time to piece it all together. She would have to talk to Therese, she decided, but not here. Therese deserved to know about Ray Vickers.

After work Carol took yet another cab, this time to the address she had found in Therese’s personnel file. When Carol got to the door of Therese and Dannie’s home, no one came to open it.

An elderly lady poked her head out of the neighboring apartment. “They moved out just this morning,” the woman said.

“Did they leave a forwarding address?” Carol asked, hoping to get more out the stranger’s apparent nosiness.

“Nope,” the lady replied, eyeing Carol suspiciously. “Good riddance, I say…” she muttered, closing the door to show the intruder that the conversation was over.    

Carol didn’t know what to make of Therese’s abrupt decision to reside elsewhere. Maybe it was for the best not to get a hold of her right away, she thought. This way she would at least have more time to think of how to approach the matter, even if she wasn’t aware of the big picture.

One thing was clear though. She had to find out where Therese was living. Returning home, Carol asked Abby to join her in her room. It was ultimatum time: Abby had only one minute to either tell her where Therese was staying or have her ass kicked out of her house for good.   

* * *

The post office box was empty. Not that it surprised Therese all that much - the same depressing sight had greeted her for what seemed like ages now. _Why do I bother?_   she asked herself, drawing a deep, frustrated breath. The hopes of something significant coming out of the elaborate plan she had hatched two years ago had been scarce anyway. In the beginning she had checked the box regularly but not anymore.

“Are you Miss Dennis?” asked an apprehensive female voice behind her. Therese turned around, unaccustomed to hear herself addressed with the alias.

“Who wants to know?” Therese replied with a question, giving her surroundings a quick look around. The middle-aged postal worker she was now facing looked shy and embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Miss. It’s just that we’ve been waiting for Miss Dennis to show up...” The woman obviously needed to ascertain that she was in fact speaking to the elusive ‘Miss Dennis’.

“I am she,” Therese acknowledged, her tone much kinder now.

“Great!” the woman exclaimed, a relieved smile lighting her round face. “I’m so glad we finally got a hold of you.” Her words were enough to make Therese nervous, but the woman was too happy to notice her slight discomfort. “You see, we’ve been having a lot of trouble with your mail recently…” she continued. “First nothing, and now so much that we can’t possibly fit it all inside the box…” She asked Therese to follow her behind the counter and all the way to the area normally restricted to customers.

The woman whose name tag spelled Lisa removed a large plastic bin from one of the storage shelves. “All this started pouring in about a week or so ago.” The container was almost filled to the brim. “Do you have a car or how would you like to take these with you?”

Therese was speechless. White envelopes with “Ms. Sandra Dennis” handwritten on them were piled up in countless layers inside the bin with a few bigger, brown ones thrown in for variety. The surprise sight made her almost giddy, an excitement far removed from anything she had ever known racing through her entire being. “I’ll…” she stammered, happily bewildered, “I’ll get a cab.”

* * *

That night Therese knew happiness that was powerful enough to erase all heartache and suffering. It was the happiness of accomplishment, of knowing that what she had begun was finally bearing fruit. All the envelopes were addressed to:

>   _Ms. Sandra Dennis_
> 
> _Kathleen’s School For Girls_

In the privacy of her hotel room, she went through every letter, every heartfelt word on every single page. They had arrived from all over the country, from big cities and small towns, each one of them telling more or less the same story. _I am forever grateful for this amazing opportunity your scholarship program has granted me… your generosity turned my life around…  this chance I have been given has restored my faith in humanity… how can I ever repay the kindness you have shown me… Kathleen’s help saved me…_ The individual voices and paragraphs melted into a thankful chorus of women who’d been given a _third_ chance. _A real chance_.

All along as she was reading, Therese kept Genevieve’s list of lost girls close at hand. Each time when she was able to link a happy confession with a previously anonymous name, the smile on her face grew wider and her heart lighter. Almost all of the letters contained a photo, a snapshot of a young woman finding a firmer foothold in the world that had once shunned her. “Kathleen” had requested it, Therese only now remembered. _For Kathleen with my everlasting gratitude. For Kathleen who saved my life. For Kathleen, with love._ One of the women had even enclosed a picture of her newborn baby girl, _Kathleen_.       

Therese thought about the kind lady whose priced flamingo had made all the difference in these women’s lives. Therese wished she could’ve told her, somehow let Kathleen Morra know that right now, even if for a fleeting moment in time, her memory was firmly imprinted in the hearts and minds of these more than deserving girls. _Kathleen’s girls_.


	23. Alarm

The proximity of the opening date electrified everyone involved with the exhibition. Richard’s crew was putting in long days, finalizing the security details of the main exhibition room where the Empress’ jewels would take center stage. Carol observed the work from start to finish with keen interest. The security cameras had been installed, and the tailor-made glass vitrine was mounted on its base in the middle of the room. The floor alarm was tested at least three times a day, usually twice on purpose and once by accident when someone inadvertently stumbled too close to the case when the system was operational.

These stupid mistakes bugged Richard immensely, and he did not mince words when telling his staffers off for being  ‘clumsy, dim-witted morons’. Having witnessed far too many of his nasty outbursts, Carol saw fit to intervene when it happened once again.

“Richard, cut the poor guy some slack,” Carol said. “Everyone is understandably nervous, and we’re all just getting used to these special circumstances.” Richard didn’t look too pleased, but he quit harassing the guy for now. “Is it okay if I approach the case now?” Carol asked after the blare of the alarm had died out.     

Richard nodded, still peeved by what had happened. Smiling, Carol walked over to the glass box that reacted to her touch as promised. The vitrine lost its transparency, turning milky white. “It’s like a magic trick,” Carol gasped. “Now you see it, now you don’t…” She found it quite enthralling.

The simple efficiency mellowed even Richard. “Works like a charm every time,” he agreed. “I only wish we could somehow reinstate the clarity from the control booth, but at this point the time clock can’t be easily circumvented.”

Carol looked surprised. “It stays like that?” she asked.

“For two hours, I’m afraid.” The expression on Richard’s face revealed that he wasn’t too crazy about the delay. “But if someone dares to paw the glass in the first place, it’s good to block the view once and for all. That’ll teach ‘em a lesson!” he pontificated.

Who ‘them’ in Richard’s mind were wasn’t all that clear to Carol but she humoured him nevertheless. “I suppose you’re right. One can’t covet what one doesn’t see.”

“I don’t think we’ll have any real problems with it,” Richard said, downplaying his earlier concern. “The public will be notified that touching is prohibited, and that by violating this rule a visitor may be liable to pay a hefty fine.”          

Carol still couldn’t believe that the system would be so ‘un-co-operative’. “Is there really nothing we can do to speed it up?” she inquired.

“Well, we do have a security code that is valid only once per day if we need to bypass it, but the downside to it is that if it happens again soon after that, the box will turn white for solid eight hours.” By now it was evident that Richard wanted to change the subject.

“That would be unfortunate indeed,” Carol agreed. “But it’s quite a stretch to think an accident like that could happen twice in a same day.”

Richard shrugged, but he appreciated Carol’s optimism. “I hope you’re right.”

* * *

_An hour later_

“If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must go to the mountain…” Abby was standing in the doorway of Carol’s office. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for days.

Carol wasn’t at all pleased to see her there. “What an unnecessarily prophetic honor,” she sneered at her husband’s nurse. “This is not the time or the place…” she started.

“When is it then if not now?” Abby interrupted, desperate to tell her side of the story. She had answered Carol’s questions about Therese’s whereabouts, but other than that she hadn’t gotten a word in. “You have obviously made up your mind about me without hearing me at all! I think I deserve better than that.”

Carol glared at Abby. “Deserve?  _ You _ deserve better? After conspiring behind my back with my assistant?” Her raised voice made Abby step all the way in and close the door firmly behind her.

“I have done no such thing!” Abby defended herself.

“Don’t play me for a fool, dear Abigail!” Carol’s voice cut straight through Abby’s excuses. “Who are you really?  _ What _ are you? If anyone here’s deserving, it’s me, and I intend to get to the bottom of this damn charade.”

Abby sat down to face the doubts and accusations she suspected would soon be aimed at her. “What do you want to know? Ask me and I’ll answer you.” She knew she’d have to adhere to the truth, but the facets of that truth would not extend beyond the scope of Carol’s questions.

“Why would anyone want to blackmail me? Was it Lady Cantrell who orchestrated it or someone else?” After her run-in with Raymond Vickers, Carol knew that Genevieve was a crucial player at least in some devious scheme.

“As I told Rindy, only Therese can reply to these questions. I only agreed to help her when she contacted me that night.” Abby was sticking to her guns.

“How do you know Therese?” Carol interrogated.

“She called me when she was bringing you home from Lady Cantrell’s manor.” It wasn't exactly a straight answer, but it did the trick.

“Why wasn’t I told about this… this blackmail attempt?” Carol wanted to know.

“Therese promised that she would when the time was right. She mentioned something about the situation being very unpredictable and not wanting to upset you before the exhibition opened.” Again Abby sounded quite reasonable in her defense.

“That was not your decision to make!” Carol grumbled. “If I’m being threatened, I need to know about it!” she declared.

Abby nodded meekly. “You are absolutely right, and I apologize for my poor judgment. I should’ve come forward, no matter what anyone else said. It’s just that… that…” Looking troubled and hesitant, she wasn’t sure if she should say what had just occurred to her.

“Just what?!?” Carol demanded to find out, both impatient and furious.

“I thought what Therese did that night was noble and brave, yet she wanted no credit for it.” Abby had been so angry with Therese when she’d seen her come out of Genevieve’s room, but right now it hardly mattered.

She had met Therese the same morning, and the young woman Abby had thought she’d known like the back of her hand had appeared so very different from the old one. It was almost as if Therese had gone through a transformation of sorts; a change of heart that had turned a wilful child into a distinctly more mature adult.        

“Should anything happen to me, you will be provided with instructions to take care of what I’ve set in motion,” Therese had confided in Abby. “Promise me you will,” she had pleaded with her.

“Nothing bad’s going to happen,” Abby had tried to console Therese despite her own uneasiness. “Please don’t say such things.”

Therese had smiled at Abby but insisted on getting her answer. “You have to promise me… will you?”

What else could she have done? “I promise.” Her own words echoed in Abby’s mind now that she was being grilled by Carol. Or  _ had been _ grilled by Carol - until her boss had suddenly fallen silent.

“Why didn’t she want me to know?” Carol finally dared to ask.

Abby’s smile was knowing. “People rarely take chances unless they're motivated by greed, sense of duty or love… take your pick, but do pick the right one.” She wasn’t going to do Carol’s work for her.  

Carol hadn’t expected to hear this. To hear Abby speak of love, if only in passing, was enough to confuse everything once more, to transport her back to that wondrous kiss in the dark.   

* * *

Later the same day Carol held her weekly staff meeting in one of the less heavily guarded exhibition rooms. Some of the visiting jewels were already there. Therese was present, standing in the back.  

“Dear colleagues, we are less than a week away from the opening night of  _ Smaragdus - The Sparkle of Venus _ ...” Carol enjoyed seeing how her words sank in. “These sacred stones of the goddess of love - or at least the Greeks seemed to think so - have never before been this inclusively exhibited in our country.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand to turn her listeners' attention to what was all around them. “Have a look at what you have accomplished: the Mogul Mughal Emerald here with its engraved invocations, the exquisite Crown of Andes over there… the lush green beauty of these famous stones that holds a promise of not only love but also of luck and prosperity.” _We could all use some love, luck and prosperity_ , occurred to her out of the blue. “And the  main attraction  is still yet to come…”

Carol was waxing poetic and she knew it. Working in a museum never meant doing it just for a pay check. It was way more than that, a passion and a calling combined. She didn’t want anyone in her staff to lose the sight of what was the ultimate goal of their joint endeavour: to shed light on previously unfamiliar eras and people through selected objects. Hers was en expert team, and she wanted her staff to be aware of it, too. “Appreciate your own hard work. Whatever happens in the future, whatever disappointments you may encounter, you can always look back at this proud moment and be sure that _you_ did your best.” It wasn’t the first time Carol addressed her staff so eloquently, but this time she thought her words had more poignancy than ever before.     

After the meeting Carol was surrounded by her colleagues bursting with questions about the remaining work and the opening night. Therese, however, saw no point in hanging around any longer than needed. She thought about what Carol had said, wondering if the coup she was contemplating would constitute a disappointment the Met staffers could ever put past them.

Therese had stayed away from Carol, despite still being puzzled by what had happened between them. Although the hurt of Carol’s rejection hadn't disappeared, Therese’s spirit was miraculously rekindled. She had spent long nights studying the letters she now valued as her greatest treasure, planning what to do next and how to make it happen. It was a lot of work for just one person, but the enduring hope the individual messages conveyed had galvanized Therese into tireless action.

Even though Therese regretted what had happened with Genevieve, their encounter had at least given her more room to operate on her own. Whenever she had talked with her these days, Lady Cantrell had seemed to be in good spirits. “Just be extra careful, darling,” Genevieve had said only this morning overn the phone. “Something unexpected may come up...”

_ Too little too late _ . Therese was hardly moved by Genevieve’s ‘warm concern’. Therese knew the odds of her being able to steal the jewels and get away with it were against her, but hadn’t it always been the same way? To pull a stunt like that required a special kind of arrogance and skill. Therese had practised the basics and planned her heist as thoroughly as humanly possible, but when push came to shove, it was the rush of adrenaline and her exceptional nerve that dictated the outcome.

* * *

Dannie was in his room when Therese got back to her hotel. “Wanna see Lou’s choker?” he asked her when Therese stopped by to say hello. Dannie insisted on calling Empress Louise ‘Lou’ and the famous necklace a ‘choker’.

“Sure,” Therese smiled, delighted to see Dannie in a cheerful mood. He had a real reason for it, too: the replica was simply stunning. “Wow… why don’t we just forget about swiping the original now that we have  _ this  _ masterpiece,” she laughed.

Dannie's joyfulness was short-lived. “Why don’t we...” he mumbled, remembering Abby’s visit. “I was thinking… maybe it’s not a good idea to go ahead with it.” His ears were turning red out of sudden nervousness.

Therese glanced at Dannie, not knowing what to make of his unexpected second thoughts. “Where’s this coming from, D?” she asked, surprised. “Haven’t you always told me that we have no other choice but to toe the line?” she continued. This kind of hesitation didn’t sound like Dannie at all.

“Well, it’s just that…” he stammered, averting his eyes from Therese’s curious gaze. “It’s - dangerous… you know?” Verbal expression had never been Dannie’s strong suit.

“And  _ now _ you’ve figured it out?” Therese mocked him, amused by what had always been self-evident. “If it weren’t dangerous, anyone could do it.” Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to Dannie’s brilliant creation. “You’ve done one heck of a job with this one…” Therese admired. “The way you’ve cut the crystal structure into precise, matching briolettes is masterly.” What she was holding in her hands was truly Dannie’s masterpiece.  

“Thanks,” Dannie said. He was still unsatisfied with his lacking performance in getting Therese to rethink her plan, but a bigger and much vainer part of him enjoyed the lavished praise all too eagerly. “Madam was here earlier and she liked it a lot too…”

The elaborate fake felt heavy in Therese’s hands. “Oh really? Did she ask for me?”

Dannie shook his head. “No, she didn’t talk about you at all.”

* * *

Therese retired to her room and ordered dinner. While eating a simple meal that bore a striking resemblance to breakfast she once again browsed the mail she had stashed in a bin underneath her bed. Although Therese had opened everything, she hadn’t really gotten into the big envelopes yet. She dug the bin for the needed brown ones, four bubble mailers… _1, 2, 3…._ _the last one must have sunk to the bottom._ Despite all efforts it avoided Therese’s hand.

After a while Therese poured the bin’s entire contents on the bed, confident this would aid her in locating the missing envelope. Still no luck. Searching every drawer and cabinet, Therese tried to keep calm as long as possible. There had to be a logical explanation for her not finding it. She must have misplaced it somehow - maybe put it under her pillow or kicked it under the bed frame? The housekeeping had certainly not touched it, because the do-not-disturb sign had been on the door ever since she had moved in. Therese had even taken the time to stress the fact to the hotel personnel. She didn’t want anyone  _ in any circumstances _ to enter her room when she was away.  

An hour later Therese had to face the fact that the mailer was not in the room anymore. Her pulse racing, she sat on the edge of the bed and took a quick toll of what was missing.  _ Two blank passports she had paid dearly for _ . Then another, more terrifying thought occurred to her.  _ Maybe something else was gone as well?  _ It took Therese an inordinate amount of time to accept the alternative that someone had snuck into her room and stolen stuff  _ from her _ .

The ensuing search took a frantic turn, Therese going through every item and sheet of paper with shaking hands and rattled nerves. Soon everything looked the same, the thankful letters, the legal documents, her personal mementos from the performance bills to the graduation diploma… The girl she once was, _Therese Tourbillon_ , seemed to mock her desperation from the crumpled color leaflet. _Breathe, Therese, breathe_ , she ordered herself.   _Cabochon, rivoli, rhombus, chaton…_ repeating the cuts of her inexpensive gems would surely once again restore her inner calm. _Flat-back, triangle, lemon, baquette..._ Therese kept chanting in her mind - until she realized what was truly wrong.  

_ Where the fuck are my rhinestones?!? _

* * *

The next morning Therese went to work, seemingly unfazed by what had happened. A long, sleepless night had resulted in one conclusion only: _Genevieve_.  _ She didn’t talk about you at all _ , Dannie had said.  What would’ve been there to talk about when she had already been snooping around in my room? Therese mused bitterly.  _ Just be extra careful, darling _ . Therese had mistaken Genevieve’s words for almost genuine if belated concern. Now she knew better.

Genevieve liked to brag about her ‘special life insurances’ - the leverage she had on people who worked for her. “I don’t like surprises,” she used to say, “so I’ll make sure none will ever cramp my style.” Therese had never cared for Lady Cantrell’s boastful monologues but she had paid attention.  _ Something unexpected may come up… _ Genevieve’s warning sounded downright nefarious the more Therese thought about it.

_ Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. _ One thing seemed clear though: she would have to go through with the heist despite everything. It was what Genevieve expected her to do. Maybe her charitable work with  _ Kathleen’s girls _ hadn’t caught Lady Cantrell’s attention all that much? Therese hoped against hope. After all, Genevieve was impatient and tended to focus on what was obvious and useful. Perhaps she’d been in her room only for a short while and grabbed the stuff that was close by? The padded envelopes were visible on the pile and the rhinestones had been practically in plain sight on top of the bureau. Therese sighed, unable to shake off the feeling of being doomed.  _ I can’t worry about this now _ .

The Empress’s jewels were to arrive in just two days, and she had to keep her cool. Richard had made it his business to stop by her office every chance he got, which aggravated Therese to no end. He did refrain from verbally harassing her, but the meaning of his visits was clear to her.  _ I’m watching you _ .

_ Nothing here to see _ . Therese wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of finding her high-strung nor did she express any inappropriate curiosity regarding his work with the main exhibition space. She had all the details, more than enough to plot and plan far away from Richard’s prying eyes. Not even his off-handed remark about how  _ he _ had found another more reliable transportation service for the French valuables had thrown her off balance.

Therese also managed to act normal with Carol when they oversaw the new wall labels in the 'Wodabe room'. Carol was kind and courteous to everyone, and the guarded smile she bequeathed Therese seemed sincere enough. 

At the end of the day Therese was relieved to retreat to the privacy of her hotel room. A facade, no matter how elaborate and well tended, was still a heavy burden to keep up. The bright city lights greeted her through the window the minute she walked in. Not bothering to take her coat off, she stood in the dark far longer than she realized. The soft spell of the night captivated Therese, swathing her in silence.   

When Therese finally came out of it, a white piece of paper forgotten on the floor caught her eye.  _ I must have dropped it this morning _ , she thought before picking it up.  She hadn’t. What she found didn’t belong to the trash bin: it was a small white envelope with no name, address or stamp on it. It had either been slid under the door or placed on the carpet while she had been out. The thought of yet another unauthorized entry to her room made Therese's heart skip a beat, yet what was inside was even more serious than that.

A small white card accompanied a brochure of some kind. Therese read the typed message that bore no signature:

> _something VICKED this way comes_

The clumsy typo in the  _ Macbeth _ quote puzzled Therese at first, but after she had opened the leaflet advertising the services of QVICK TRANSPORTATION CO, it made hell of a lot more sense. The anonymous letter slipped through her fingers and drifted back to the floor.


	24. Kismet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is probably one of the longest chapters I've ever written... oh well, I hope you enjoy it nevertheless <3

Genevieve was almost done with breakfast when her brother joined her in the dining room. She had hoped to avoid him, but now that Ray was pouring himself coffee, she knew she couldn’t just get up and leave. 

“Can’t you get a housekeeper or a cook to fix us decent grub?” Ray complained, buttering a half-burned piece of toast. “With all the money you’ve made it shouldn’t be difficult to find good help.” Frustrated, he abandoned the bread after one bite and concentrated on his coffee. 

“What do you want, Ray?” Genevieve asked, unwilling to prolong the morning any more than necessary. The man she most despised in the world was sitting way too close to her.

“Is that a way to talk to your loving brother?” Ray chided her, pretending to be hurt. “All I’ve ever wanted is for us to be a one big happy family…” 

The word  _ us _ paralyzed Genevieve. “You have a seriously deranged idea of happiness,” she scoffed back. 

Ray’s left hand landed  on Genevieve’s thigh like a vulture. “A family that plays together stays together…” he grinned, taking turns to stroke and squeeze the skin under the hem of her mini skirt. After a while he stopped, confident he had made his point. “Where is she?” he demanded to know. “Where have you hidden her?” Ray’s former playfulness was gone.

“I haven’t hidden her anywhere!” Genevieve replied with equal ardor. She had expected him to ask the question, yet she had hoped she could keep Therese out of harm’s way. 

Ray wasn’t amused by her defiance. “You will tell me - one way or another.” His threats were never empty.  

“She needs to concentrate…” Genevieve explained, desperate to buy more time to decide the best course of action for both her and Therese. “If you show up now, who knows what she’ll do.” There was truth to what she was saying.

Ray leaned back in his chair, contemplating Genevieve’s ready excuse. Gradually his stern features creased into a cryptic smile. “Fine. I can wait till she’s done - although I’m sure she’s dying to find out…” He left the sentence unfinished on purpose.

“Find out what?” Genevieve asked, although she knew the answer couldn’t be anything but upsetting.

Ray’s wide, nasty grin confirmed her worst fears.  “That Daddy’s home.”

* * *

It was the day when the Empress’ jewels were to arrive. Tying up all the loose ends she could think of, Carol was giving last minute orders to everyone. To Richard’s great dismay, she was micromanaging his security crew, too. 

“I want someone from your staff to ride with the QVICK team,” she told Richard. “You may disagree with me, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” The mere thought of Ray Vickers was enough to make Carol exceedingly nervous about the transportation, and she wasn’t going to take unnecessary chances. Finally Richard gave in to her wish, albeit reluctantly.                    

Carol hadn’t seen Therese all morning, which she found worrying. However, a  quick chat with Bob the security guard revealed to her that her assistant had come in hours before Carol. “Therese is a terrific gal,” Bob exulted. “Look what she gave to me…” A big, tan teddy bear with a lopsided smile was sitting on top of the main desk in the lobby. “To keep me company, she said,” he laughed.

_ And I thought she might be a nervous wreck… _ Carol mused. “He even looks a bit like you!” she smiled, relieved by Bob’s news. 

On her way to her office, Carol was surprised to see other cuddly toys in equally unexpected places. “Let me guess… a gift from Therese?” she asked Leona who minded the gift shop.

“How did you know?” Leona asked, surprised. “A few weeks ago I showed Therese a video of my cat, and I guess she remembered because this lil’ fella looks exactly like my widdle schnookums pookums…” She gave the huge-eyed plush toy a tight hug. “Mommy vows yooo…” Leona cooed, not minding Carol’s presence.      

_ Widdle schnookums pookums? _  Carol decided to hurry along and refrain from asking other toy owners further questions. Therese had been busy, handing furry friends to her colleagues in almost every floor and department. For a moment Carol wondered if there was a stuffed animal waiting for her as well. Luckily, no.   

* * *

Therese kept strictly to herself, observing everything that went on in the building from the safety of her office. Even though she was sitting behind a locked door, the view she had created for herself was first-rate. All twelve teddy bears with their webcam eyes were transmitting vivid images to Therese’s computer. Only the one in the bookstore wasn’t working properly, the picture shaking and getting hazy all too often. She didn’t let it bother her, for at the moment she focused on the teddy number 8 that had fortuitously been placed on top of a storage shelf in the maintenance area.       

At 3.15 pm, right on schedule, Therese noticed a sturdy van pull in. Three men, one of them Richard, stepped out of the back of an armoured car carrying a portable safe. Another man had apparently been waiting for them, his back turned to the camera. Therese couldn’t hear what they were saying, but when they approached the camera on their way in, the stranger turned around to follow the others. It all happened quickly, but it was enough to verify what Therese knew already.  _ Ray Vickers was escorting the Empress’ jewels _ .   

Although she had been frightened after the anonymous note, a strange calm took over Therese. A dangerous game was set, but at least she knew all the players. Now she only needed to take the most vulnerable of them out of the equation to have the peace of mind to accomplish what had to be done. 

* * *

After a brief visit to her safe deposit box, Therese called Dannie to make sure he would be in when she got to the hotel. Her heart was heavy but her thinking was clear.  

Dannie was watching television, and it took Therese some time to convince him to turn it off. “Why don’t we go out to eat? I’d really like that,” she suggested to him. “How about some steak and eggs? For old times’ sake…” It was an offer she knew Dannie couldn’t resist. 

Therese enjoyed watching Dannie devour his favorite dish while she barely touched hers. The booth they shared reminded Therese of two very different meals - the very first one with ‘Karen’ and the second, much nicer, with Dannie right after he had gotten out of prison. The lump in her throat grew bigger with each passing second. The hands of the clock on the wall moved too fast, she thought. They were ticking away time she had left with Dannie.   

“You do know that I love you, don’t you?” Therese asked Dannie suddenly.  There had never been a moment when she had felt it more vigorously than right now.

“Sure…” Dannie said, swiping his plate clean with a piece of bread. It wasn’t until he looked at Therese that he understood the weight of her words. “You and me against the world, T,” he spoke, trying to lighten up the mood. “Through thick and thin.”  

Distraught, Therese swallowed. “It’s time for you to live your life, Dannie,” she said. “To find happiness…” She had rehearsed this so many times in her mind over the years, seeking comfort in the noble sentiment of releasing him from the nightmare they had shared. Yet now that it was happening she wasn’t at all prepared for the pain of letting go, of never seeing her friend, her chosen brother, again. 

Only now she realized how much she had depended on Dannie, on his always being there for her when life dealt a blow too cruel to fathom. Therese had kept Dannie afloat all these years, looked after his interests, but somehow he had become her oxygen supply, too. To cut the line that had hitched them together felt like abandoning the only safe haven in a vast, hostile space that expanded beyond her understanding. 

Dannie was understandably confused. “What are you saying..?” he asked. “The exhibition opens tomorrow and we have so much to do… this is not the time or the place to…” he started, only to be interrupted by the touch of Therese’s hand on his.

“This  _ is _ the time. The only right time.” She wasn’t going to change her mind now. “After tomorrow all bets are off and I need to know that you are safe when that happens.”

Dannie raised his hands in front of him as if he could prevent Therese from talking by actually fighting the words off. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you like I’ve always done…”

“No, you won’t!” Therese exclaimed not caring if anyone heard them or not. “You will do exactly as I tell you to do!” She hated losing her temper but she had no choice but to be strict with him. Chances were that Ray Vickers had not yet learned about Dannie’s existence, and she wanted it to stay that way. 

As much as Therese despised Genevieve and all she had put her through, there had been a certain method to her madness. Lady Cantrell was never foolish or rash with what she considered her property, and she never exacted her revenge on anyone in a spur of the moment. Ray Vickers, however, tortured for torture’s sake. He could squash  someone like Dannie without giving it another thought. 

“You can’t order me around!” Dannie objected stubbornly. “I’m just as much a part of this as you are…” His rant ran out of steam  when he saw the look on Therese’s face. It didn’t bode well.

Her heart pounding like a captive demanding to be released, Therese was reluctant to accept what she would have to say next. “Truth be told, I don’t want you around anymore. You’re nothing but an impediment, dead weight…” Hardly breathing, she stared at the table.        

For a small eternity neither of them said anything, and the silence choked Therese harder than any pair of punishing hands ever could. Just when it was getting too much for her, Dannie cleared his throat. 

“You really want me to go.” His simple statement wasn’t  an accusation despite the hurt in his voice. “Okay then.” He straightened his back and took a long breath. At some point he had withdrawn his hands from Therese’s hold, and now that he examined them, they seemed useless and empty. 

Therese pulled an envelope out of her bag, and put it between them on the table. “Inside you’ll find a passport and some money,” she explained quietly. “More will be deposited on your bank account every month. Everything you need to know is there…” Only now she dared to look at Dannie who slid the envelope in his breast pocket without caring to check its contents. 

When it looked like Dannie was about to get up and leave, Therese pressed her palms on top of his hands once more. “Don’t…” she whispered. “You’re not going to be alone,” she said, overcome by emotion. “Did you think I’d let you go and not make sure you’re being looked after?” Her voice breaking, Therese forced Dannie to look at her.

Soon tears were streaming down Dannie’s face faster than he could wipe them away. “I can look after myself,” he sobbed. His sorrow mingled with his pride, which didn’t come as a surprise to Therese.  

“Of course you can, but you don’t have to,” Therese said softly. “There’s someone here who will take you home…”  _ Home _ . The mere word was enough to rip her apart, but she couldn’t let it show.  

Even more confused, Dannie took a quick look around without understanding what Therese meant. “Here? Now?” he whispered back, furrowing his brow.

_ This is the end and the beginning,  _ occurred to Therese _. These are my last words for you.  _  “I think you should go and say hi to your brother Phil,” she said. A solitary figure was sitting in a booth on the other side of the diner. “Soon you’ll also get to see that nephew of yours that you’ve told me so much about...” She imagined Dannie meeting a boy who looked very much like him - someone who’d grow up to be a lovable man-child, too.   

Speechless, Dannie stared at Therese. “Just go,” Therese said, nodding in the stranger’s direction. “It’s alright. He knows what to do.” She squeezed Dannie’s hand, aware of the gesture’s significance. The simple act was all the encouragement Dannie needed to get up and close the gap between the tables and the years that had separated him from his brother. 

Seeing the two men first awkwardly shake hands and then hug each other was a bittersweet moment for Therese.  _ I’m a stranger in paradise _ , she mused, remembering the song Dannie had sometimes sung to her. She took her coat and bag and snuck out of the restaurant as discreetly as she only could. 

Outside the air was crisp, cooler than usually that time of the year. Therese thought about tomorrow, about Carol, and the memory of Dannie’s sweet baritone flooded her mind:   

> _ Take my hand I'm a stranger in paradise _
> 
> _ All lost in a wonderland _
> 
> _ A stranger in paradise _
> 
> _ If I stand starry-eyed _
> 
> _ That's a danger in paradise _
> 
> _ For mortals who stand beside an angel like you _
> 
> _ I saw your face and I ascended _
> 
> _ Out of the commonplace into the rare _
> 
> _ Somewhere in space I hang suspended _
> 
> _ Until I know there's a chance that you care _
> 
> _ Won't you answer this fervent prayer _
> 
> _ Of a stranger in paradise? _
> 
> _ Don't send me in dark despair _
> 
> _ From all that I hunger for _
> 
> _ But open your angel's arms _
> 
> _ To the stranger in paradise _
> 
> _ And tell him that we need be _
> 
> _ A stranger no more _

 

* * *

_ The Opening Day _

 

“You are driving us nuts!” Abby laughed at Carol who had been darting back and forth upstairs and downstairs for the past two hours. “Look at poor Harge - even he’s stressed out because of you…” ‘Poor Harge’ really did appear rattled, the panicky Edward Munch glimmer in his eyes.

“Oh darling...” Carol smiled at her husband. “Abby’s going to take extra good care of you tonight, and won’t it be fun to get out of the house for a change?” she continued, winking at him.

“I don’t think he’s all that keen to party after what happened last time…” Abby quipped, referring to Harge’s ‘pit stop’ at the hospital after the restaurant date.   

“Why do you have to be so negative?” Carol grumbled. “Everything will go perfectly smoothly as long as  _ you _ do what I expect you to do…” She gave Abby a marked look. “Or do we need to run everything through once more?” Her tone of voice expected it to be wholly unnecessary.

“I’m well aware of everything, thank you very much...” Abby muttered back. To put it mildly, the past few days had been _very_ _interesting_ , thanks to Carol’s strong-arming her to play by a whole new set of rules.  

“Abigail will make sure you will have the time of your life tonight, dear,” Carol sweet-talked to Harge. “I promise you an opening night gala you will never forget!” Saying it, she looked absolutely radiant, which couldn’t help but catch both Abby’s and Harge’s attention. 

The black gala dress Carol was presently trying on clung to her body in all the right places, her beautiful, chiselled back open all the way down to her waist. When she leaned in to check her earrings in the wall mirror, her husband’s expression was reflected on it as well. “Abby, close Harge’s mouth. He’s drooling.”

_ Aren’t we all…  _ Abby thought, giving her helpless patient a sympathetic look. 

* * *

When Therese heard a knock on her office door, she hoped to see Carol. She shut her laptop, concealing her unusual surveillance system. To her disappointment, the woman behind the door turned out to be Genevieve.

“Hello, darling,” Lady Cantrell greeted her, giving her a kiss on both cheeks. “I’m very happy to see you.” Genevieve did look happy, which surprised Therese. “May I sit with you for a moment?” she asked although she was hardly the type to ask for anyone’s permission to do anything. “Today’s the big day, yet I’m feeling somewhat tired,” she confided in Therese. “Is it just me or is this getting harder every time?” Genevieve asked somewhat rhetorically.

Her kindness puzzled Therese. Every muscle in her body had tightened the second she had seen Genevieve’s face, yet this hardly sounded like the start of the face-off she had dreaded. Now that Genevieve knew what she had been up to these past couple of years, surely she would have to deal with the ruthless repercussions her boss was infamous for. Therese decided to remain quiet, for now.

“Therese, I think we could both retire after this one - together, I mean…” Lady Cantrell started apprehensively. “I have money stashed away… we could just disappear and live comfortably forever after.” Genevieve looked at Therese, and for the first time Therese saw something resembling fear in her eyes. “You could choose the place. Any place you like. Anywhere… would you like that?” She drew in a short, intermittent breath and waited.

Therese was stunned and she wondered if it was written on her face, too. “Well… wow…” she stammered, not knowing if she should look at Genevieve or not. “I don’t know what to say…” Yet it was all she needed to say, for Genevieve was no fool. Lady Cantrell cast her eyes on the floor, a sad smile flickering on the corners of her mouth. She hid it well.

“Think about it,” Genevieve said, getting up slowly to let her wobbly feet get used to the idea of walking away. “Oh, one more thing - are you going to wear that dark green gown tonight?” she asked Therese.

“Yes,” Therese replied, thankful for the change of subject.

“You might consider wearing this with it,” Genevieve said, handing her a black velvet jewelry case. “Believe it or not, I actually bought it… from Sotheby’s.” 

The case hid a simple yet stylish pendant showcasing an impressive 35 carat emerald, topped by four .35 carat diamonds. Therese couldn’t believe her eyes let alone utter a single word for she had immediately recognized it as the Flagler pendant that had sold for nearly three million dollars in 2015.

“I want you to have it. It’ll compliment your gorgeous eyes.” Lady Cantrell took her leave, not expecting anything in return.

Nothing could have prepared Therese for this. What was going on? Why was Genevieve acting so strangely? If she knew what Therese had done, what made her say all those things and gift a  _ traitor _ a piece of jewelry that in itself amounted to a fortune? 

_ Unless she didn’t know. _

All this time Therese had been so certain of the intruder’s identity, she hadn’t really given thought to other possible suspects. Had her stepfather broken into her hotel room? Had he read the women’s letters and studied her plans for the heist? The prospect was nerve-shattering, because it meant  _ he _ was yet one step ahead of her and not the other way around. Anything could happen tonight and everything could go terribly wrong. 

After careful consideration, Therese relied on one thing - Ray’s greed. He would most likely let her go ahead with her plan and only interfere with the endgame. She sat down behind her desk and buried her face in her hands. One thought consoled Therese in her distress: by now Dannie was already far away, safely surrounded by his family. Knowing it would comfort her even if all else failed.      

* * *

An hour before the festivities began, there was no end in sight to the steady flow of distinguished guests. Although low-key compared to the annual Met Gala, the glamorous nature of the exhibition had drawn in an exceptionally large number of celebrities. Models and actors in their straight-from-the-runway dresses surrendered to the blinding flashes of the paparazzi cameras. Knowing their turmoil would end once safely inside, they happily strutted their stuff on the red carpet. 

Exchanging pleasantries with the VIPs in the receiving line, Carol kept an eye on the main entrance to see Abby and Harge arrive. When Carol finally noticed Abby pushing Harge’s wheelchair up the ramp, she made sure the guards helped them in as smoothly as possible.

“If I haven’t said it already, you do look stunning tonight,” Abby smiled at Carol. “More stunning than those royal gems, I must say!” Harge’s puppy eyes seemed to agree.     

“I think this is the fourth time you’ve told me, but so far it hasn’t gotten old,” Carol laughed. She  _ was _ feeling beautiful but more than that she was feeling confident. “Thank you!” Her eyes scanned the crowd, picking up familiar faces but not the one she wanted to see. Her disappointment didn’t last long.

“Good evening,” said a quiet voice behind Carol’s back. She turned around to see Therese smiling at the three of them.

“Well, hel-loo…” Carol gasped, seeing her assistant dressed to the nines. Therese was nothing short of an embodiment of a dream Carol hadn’t even known she possessed. The young woman clad in green struck a responsive chord somewhere between her understanding of female aesthetics and pure animalistic lust. The sight of Therese made the blood in Carol’s body circulate faster until she was dizzy with the sweet, sanguine merry-go-round.

“Quite a rock you’re wearing…” Abby commented, noticing  Therese’s pendant. She recognised it immediately, having accompanied Genevieve to the auction three years prior. Lady Cantrell had never worn it herself, and Abby had forgotten all about it until now. She wasn’t delighted or happy to see it grace Therese’s décolletage. It only confirmed what she had suspected for a long time.

“Indeed!” Carol agreed, reclaiming her temporarily lost faculties. “Maybe we should put  _ you _ in one of those glass cabinets?” she laughed, picking up flutes of champagne from a waiter’s tray. 

Therese looked at Carol, procuring her glass. “Sounds like something out of a fairytale,” she smiled. “Maybe there’s a piece of poisoned apple lodged between my teeth?” 

Abby let out a sad little laugh. “You sure look the part: “lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, skin white as snow…” Suddenly remembering what brought Snow White out of her stupor, she stopped and said no more. It would’ve been unnecessary, too, for both Carol and Therese found it impossible not to think about the kiss that had already awakened them from death. 

* * *

The exhibition was opened with a speech given by a stuttering, half-blind member of the board who kept confusing the Empress’ jewels with the Hope Diamond. Carol was gracious enough to escort him to his seat afterwards, which however didn’t go all that well. The elderly man slipped from Carol’s hold just as they were passing the necklace and the earrings vitrine, resulting in his inadvertently grazing the glass. Given the gentleman’s advanced age, the incident was received good-humouredly. Even Richard who would’ve otherwise looked remarkably sour showed remarkable restraint. He smiled apologetically to everyone around, basking in their appreciation five minutes later when he restored the transparency of the glass box with the emergency code.        

Carol worked the room with a full cocktail glass in hand, raising her drink in reply to all salutes but not really tasting it at any time. The band hired for the night’s entertainment was sticking to the agreed playlist, she noted happily. An eclectic mix of romantic, daring and surprisingly sexual tunes did raise eyebrows whenever someone happened to pay attention to it, but in the midst of all busy bonhomie and cozying up it went generally unnoticed. 

Therese did notice, though. Had she not been compelled to stay sober, the bold segues from  _ Smooth Operator _ to  _ Little Lies _ and  _ Hit Me With Your Best Shot _ would have driven her to drink. Each time when she was about to ask the vocalist to sing something different, the velvety-voiced lady launched into  _ Nobody Does It Better _ or  _ Can’t Take My Eyes Off You _ . 

_ “She’s an easy lover… she’ll take your heart but you won’t feel it…” _ croaked Abby along the song of the moment. She had managed to sneak beside Therese. “I bet her royal highness Marie Louise is rolling in her grave over this soundtrack,” she chuckled. 

“Shut up…” Therese muttered under her breath. “I think they’ve mistaken tonight for some other shindig.”

Abby’s amusement knew no bounds. “God, you’re funny!” she giggled, wiping her eyes. “Or at least I hope you’re joking because this is no mistake.” Having said that, she turned serious. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?  _ Don’t You Want Me, Baby?  _ Or, better yet:  _ I just want your extra time and your… dun, dun, dun, dun, dun… kiss!”   _ ****

Therese helped herself to Abby’s cocktail and downed it with one gulp. She closed her eyes briefly and let out a long sigh when the band started the easily recognizable intro to  _ Under Pressure _ . She had to keep it together, and she had to stay on Abby’s good side, too. She would need her help very soon.

“Do you remember your instructions?” Therese asked Abby as kindly as possible. “I think now is as good time as any…” Now that the moment of truth was at hand, she regained her focus.

Abby nodded, clutching her evening bag. Everything she needed for her part was hidden there. “I’ll do it randomly as you requested.” This wasn’t the first time when she was pitching in during an actual operation. “Ready whenever you are.”

Therese left Abby’s side and moved to the other side of the main exhibition room to stand next to two security guards. When she had put enough distance between herself and Abby, she raised her right hand to her temple as a sign for Abby to go ahead as planned.  

Almost immediately the in-room surveillance monitors as well as the lights started to flicker. Abby was jamming the control and electric frequencies with a remote Therese had given her for the purpose. It affected the band’s sound system, too, and for a quick second everything stood still out of sheer confusion. Therese heard Richard’s angry voice through the walkie-talkies the guards had with them. Soon the men were scurrying around the hall, clueless of how to solve the unexpected problem. Then it was all over as soon as it had started. The crowd sighed a collective sigh of relief. 

“Nothing to worry about,” Therese overheard Carol say to a group of guests who looked shaken by the odd happenstance. “Just a minor glitch… See - everything’s back to normal...”

Individual conversations picked up once more, and the vocalist started drawling Chris Isaak’s  _ Wicked Game _ . Before the second chorus, the trouble started again. The images on the screens distorted or disappeared altogether, but it wasn’t until the lights went out that the situation started to seem more serious. A few screams were heard along with a new, startling sound Therese couldn’t recognize. It resembled something an engine would produce, but as such it didn’t make any sense to her. 

When the lights returned twenty seconds later, the source of the odd sound was in plain sight: Harge’s wheelchair was zigzagging the room, seemingly out of control. The poor man sat strapped in his four-wheeler, a frenzied look on his face. 

_ The remote is not only jamming the security system, it’s wreaking havoc with Harge’s wheelchair as well! _ Therese realized to her horror. Harge, the Human Bullet, targeted one VIP group after another, the quick-footed guests luckily jumping out of his way at the last minute. 

Therese tried to signal Abby to quit, but no matter what Abby attempted, it didn’t stop Harge riding amok with his bolting steel stallion. The enormous ruckus had caught the attention of most of the guests in other halls, too. The maximum capacity of the main exhibition space was nearing its limit when Harge’s chair started having dangerously close shaves with the Empress’ jewels. Carol was bravely running after him, not really knowing what she could do if she were to catch the crazed vehicle. 

Therese registered Lady Cantrell’s horrified expression when Harge’s course took an abrupt turn toward the  _ Vogue _ editor-in-chief Anna Wintour who was standing next to the centerpiece. The wheelchair’s speed accelerated, missing Wintour only by an inch but crashing straight to the magic vitrine instead. As expected, the glass turned opaque and the main alarm went off with its deafening blare.                          

Just when Therese thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, the lights went out again. She heard Carol’s voice boom over cries for help and the ensuing chaos: “Everyone stay calm… the generator will kick in any moment now…  please don’t panic, we are all safe here…” Her words fell on empty ears, people crawling on all fours toward dim-lit exit signs. 

_ What the hell is happening here? _   Therese thought, her earlier confidence all but ruined. She kept listening to Harge’s chair engine, trying to figure out if he was still moving. It was unlikely, his encounter with the Empress’ jewels having been total and devastating.

When the back-up generator finally kicked in, Therese saw Carol helping Harge get up. Her attempts seemed futile, though, since it looked like she was trying to raise both him and the heavy chair at the same time. Carol was understandably upset, her cheeks aflush and locks of hair escaping the previously impeccable coif.  

“Thank you…” Carol mumbled as Therese came to her rescue. “What a disaster…” she managed to utter, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. 

“It’s not your fault,” Therese whispered. She was heartbroken to see Carol so distraught and embarrassed by what had happened. She glanced at the glass vitrine that had turned impenetrably white again. Other than that there was no visible damage done to the display case. 

Richard was running around the room, picking a fight with everyone who cared to stop and listen. “You…” he growled, pointing his finger at Therese. “You… you…” he kept repeating, frustrated to know it hadn’t been Therese but her boss’ husband who had caused the mayhem.

“I should take Harge home,” Carol said to no one in particular. The prospects of getting them out weren’t all that good, the frightened guests efficiently blocking the main entrance. 

“Is there a backdoor we could use?” Abby asked Richard who was stupefied by the disheveled scene in front of him.

At first Richard didn’t even seem to understand the question. “You can use the service door. Just… just get him outta here,” he mumbled finally.

Therese saw them off, hoping she could say something meaningful to Carol. With Abby fussing over both her and Harge, a suitable moment never presented itself.   

On her way to her office, Therese ran into Bob in the lobby. The seasoned security guard wasn’t the type to take things too hard, but this time he looked very upset. “What’s wrong, Bob? It wasn’t your team’s fault, you know,” Therese said.

Discouraged, Bob shrugged his shoulders. “It’s that Semco kid…” he sighed. “I’ve taken a lot of shit over the years, but I’ve had it with him.” Bob never complained, which made Therese think Richard had really crossed the line with his team tonight. 

Therese’s smile was compassionate. “I’m so sorry to hear that. We should all support one another in times like this.” Bob melted in front of his ‘favorite girl’, which Therese saw as an opportunity to milk some intel from him. “Are you going to be alright for the rest of the night?” she asked.

“Oh yes, Miss Belivet. The floor alarm’s going to be on all through the night, and even if the lights and the surveillance keep acting up, the main vitrine will remain blocked from view for the next eight hours.”

That was all Therese needed to know. “Well, good luck with Mr. Semco and everything. Don’t let him get to you,” she said, patting the nice man on the back. “I’ll just get my things and be on my way.”  

* * *

Four hours later the museum was dark, empty and eerily silent, only the footsteps of the guards audible every half an hour. One of Jimmy Three Fingers’ cousins had picked up Therese’s keycard and made it look like that she had exited the building although she was still very much inside. 

In view of what had happened that night, most people in Therese’s position would have abandoned their plans to go through with the heist. Therese didn’t. The experienced, random madness could in fact work for her benefit, she thought. Her jamming operation had yielded surprising results, but it had also done what she had intended: tonight the security team couldn’t rely on anything functioning without occasional interruptions nor would they even be surprised were these problems to continue throughout the night.

Dressed in her black cat burglar suit, Therese snuck downstairs and past Bob who was dozing off in his post at the main desk. He was the only one monitoring the lobby cameras, and Therese knew very well how to avoid being seen by them.      

Getting closer to the main exhibition room, she checked her equipment once more. The surveillance system had to be blacked out several times within the next ten minutes. That was all the time she had given herself to pull everything off. Hiding in the darkness, she first jammed the cameras for thirty seconds. Two guards came rushing in soon after.

“There’s nothing here, Bill,” noted a tired male voice. “It’s the bloody system again…” The men returned to the control room, cursing the inconvenience and why it had to happen on their shift. 

After two minutes Therese repeated her maneuver. This time only one man came by, practically dragging his feet. “Same damn thing, Joe… everything’s cool here,” he sighed into the walkie-talkie and left the room. 

Within the next forty seconds Therese jammed the frequencies for the third time. At first it looked like no one was coming at all, but eventually the most dutiful of them all did - Richard. Ticked off by his men’s slack performance, he stormed right in and searched the exhibition space meticulously with his flashlight. “Found anything, boss?” sounded off from Richard’s walkie-talkie. The irritated chief of security ignored the question. 

“I’m going to leave now, but I expect you to make the rounds every single time the lights go out, am I making myself clear?” Richard shouted over the radio waves. As far as Therese could tell, he was both exhausted and annoyed by what was still happening on his turf. 

“Yes, boss,” replied two meek voices. Richard lingered in the hall for two more minutes, but when he couldn't detect any movement whatsoever he finally gave up and exited the room.

After his departure Therese repeated her trick three more times just to test the alertness of Richard’s staff. No one moved a muscle, not even during the longest blackout that lasted for a minute and a half. This was all just simple psychology, she mused while preparing for the next phase of her operation.  _ When the unexpected becomes the rule, anything can happen even under the most watchful eyes,  _ she smiled to herself.     

The next time Therese caused the blackout, she had her night vision goggles on. She entered the room and got as close to the alarm zone as possible. Counting the seconds calmly in her head, she took a dart gun out of her backpack and aimed it toward the rafters. She knew she would have only one shot at hitting the exact mark. A custom-made hook darted through the air, pulling along a thin cord from a reel attached to the gun.  When the cord tightened to prove her success, Therese could hardly believe her luck. The hook had clung to the rafters just like she had hoped it would. The cord could now be used to get her silk up where she needed it. 

Half a minute later she was ready to grab the fabric that had been carefully measured not to hit the floor. With one remarkable leap she was inside the alarm zone, her feet never once touching the ground. The first contact with the silk proved difficult, as she had suspected. The impact left her spinning around the protected vitrine in wide circles. Climbing upward managed to slow it down, and the higher she got, the more she was able to wrap the fabric around her body.  

_ Fifty seconds _ , Therese registered, adjusting her goggles. The white glass case emitted a strange, pale glow as if a cube of milk had been left on a pedestal. She was the cat this ultimate treat was meant for, although curiosity had a bad rap with the feline kind. Gradually dropping herself lower and lower, she reached the level of the box. Securing the silk between her thighs and around her waist, she pulled out the duplicate key she had in a chain under her top.  

As promised, the protective hatch opened to reveal a keyhole in the vitrine. Though her balance was precarious, Therese had to rock herself closer to insert the tiny key in its place. No more than an inch separated her from total failure, from getting caught red-handed. 

A minute and a half had passed, yet every attempt to thrust the 3D duplicate into its narrow slit seemed only to loosen the fabric that was keeping her suspended in the air. Therese knew she couldn’t hold on for much longer. The blackout couldn’t go on for much longer. 

Just as she was losing hope, the key slid miraculously in its desired place and the side of the box that was closest to her swung open. Rejuvenated by her lucky break, Therese found extra strength to finalise the job. 

The biggest blow was still yet to come.

What she saw inside the closely guarded vitrine not only made her jaw drop - it nearly caused her to fall down as well: on the cushion where the Empress’ emerald necklace and earrings had rested lay a rather eclectic assortment of very familiar-looking rhinestones.         
     


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's pure loveliness... 
> 
> Tony Bennett: Stranger in Paradise  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/0VSkGr3AikTWSUaJQL6GNC


End file.
